


Daryl's Story

by Jewelle32



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Childhood Physical Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Multi, Wordcount: Over 10.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 46
Words: 133,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jewelle32/pseuds/Jewelle32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tells the story of Daryl Dixon mainly - his childhood (contains physical and sexual abuse - may trigger ) and some background to the other characters. But I want it to be a positive story of hope, love and healing - it also shows how he heals over time. It's not finished yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daryl's early childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early Childhood (contains mention of child physical abuse and domestic violence).
> 
> If you like this, why not check out my spinoff story which is based on this. Thanks!

The classroom is dim, the curtains over the windows shutting out the bright sunlight and the heat. It's high summer and there are several mosquitoes are buzzing around the old fashioned fans spinning slowly round. It's hot in the South in summer.

Ten year old Daryl is sitting at his desk. He's barely listening to the teacher drone on, he's bored already. In front of him is the textbook he's already read from cover to cover. The page they are studying shows a diagram of a flower with the stem, petals and stamen. He devours books at school but there aren't any at home except the Family Bible and they have no money to buy more. Neither of his parents can read and they don't understand why he should want to. They say they got on fine without 'readin', his Daddy says it's only for pussy-footed whites and uppity niggers who were trying to overreach their station in life.

He's a tall for his age and skinny with brown hair and blue eyes. His older brother, Merle could read though, and had taught him from a young age, when he was at home, that is. Merle particularly liked reading the Bible and quoting it back at their father when Daddy got riled up. Although he can't read it, Daddy has memorised the entire Old Testament chapter and verse. Daddy worked as a car mechanic and did other odd jobs but still there was hardly ever enough money to put food on the table. Mama had never worked, as far as Daryl could remember and had hardly ever left her bed because she was always feeling 'delicate'. This meant she would spend most of her days sleeping, watching television while chain-smoking and sipping from her 'medicinal' flask to try to build up her strength. All this was in the hope that someday she may be able to leave her bed. She was a small, elegant, black-haired woman for all that and always 'put on her face' every day and always wore silk and lace in bed. She didn't do housework, go shopping or cook like other mothers so the men of the house did these chores. Daryl was usually the one to bring up her meals on her tray in the mornings and evenings. And when there was no money for food (which was more often than not), Merle and Daddy would have to go hunting deer and small animals or go foraging in the forest.

Mama didn't hug or kiss him and Merle like other mothers did to their children, she'd never touched him or Merle as far as he could remember. She was always feeling so 'fragile'. He knew this because sometimes his classmates' (he wouldn't exactly call them friends) mothers would invite him round for dinner (out of pity, he realised later) and he would see how their mothers would behave. Usually, this affection was embarrassing for the boys and they would go red and squirm away. But Daryl would wonder what if felt like to have your mother touch you. Sometimes the mothers even ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek and gave him extra food packets (the food was only going to go to waste otherwise) and hand-me down clothes. At least Daddy would give him a bear hug once in a while or touch his hair when he had a beer in his hand and was in a good mood. Daryl knew that his parents were ashamed of his brother. Merle had already been in trouble with the law since he turned thirteen when he'd been caught stealing smokes from the local store. Daddy gave him the whipping of his life and afterwards, Merle had shown Daryl the scars on his back. But Daddy had never beaten Daryl like that, only given him the odd slap now and then when he did something stupid like spill his whiskey when he handed it to him. But he'd beaten Mama severely once or twice and given her broken ribs and a black eye because she had talked back at him or told him not to drink so much. Afterwards, Daddy had passed out on the couch and Daryl had to take Mama to the hospital by himself because Merle was off doing whatever he did. The doctors and nurses exchanged knowing looks but they'd known better than to ask how she got the injuries. But it was Merle who received the brunt of his rage, when he was there, that is. Merle began to stay away more often, for longer periods of time and he never talked about where he'd been or what he'd done.

Daryl could tell that they'd given up on Merle. In fact, when Daddy came back roaring drunk from the bars at the weekends, Merle would deliberately provoke him so that he would leave Daryl and Mama alone. Daddy would scream at Merle, 'You good for nothing son of a bitch' and 'Why don't you just kill yourself, no one would miss you.' Or 'Even those niggers down the road are smarter than you.' Or 'I don't give a rat's ass what you do just get out of my sight, you Jew-Boy Kike.' Merle would take it all, the beatings and whippings without complaint until one day he came back home and heard drunken yells. He raced into his parents' bedroom where Daddy was standing over Mama who was cowering on the bed, blood already trickling from her mouth. Daddy was threatening her with his fists but never Daryl, never him. Daryl tried to stop him but Daddy just shoved him out of the way. What could he do? He was only ten.

Merle came racing in from wherever he'd been and did something he had never done before. He punched Daddy first to distract him from Mama. He screamed 'Don't you touch our Mama ever again!' Then, when Daddy started to pound at him with fists, he actually fought back. Daddy had forgotten how big Merle was getting and that he was almost a grown man, able to fight back. Merle had also started working out and Daddy was nearly middle-aged and a little out of shape.

Merle beat Daddyto a pulp and Daryl had to make him stop while Mama stared with wide eyes and screamed blue murder. Daddy's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess and there was gore all over the floor. Then Merle calmly walked out of the door, as the howl of the sirens drew nearer and nearer, without a word to either of them and without looking back. Daryl didn't see or hear from him for another ten years. And it took Daddy months to fully recover from the beating administered by his own son. But Daddy didn't change, didn't stop drinking and Daryl gradually began to replace Merle as the focus of his drunken rage. He was no longer the protected Golden Boy. Now and again he attacked Mama but Daryl was too small to protect her.

Sometimes, lying in bed at night on his stomach (it was too painful to lie on his back) with the blood trickling down his back from one of Daddy's latest punishments, Daryl would curse Merle for leaving. He would fantasise about what he would say to him for leaving him and Mama without so much as a word. He would make him pay. Since his older brother had gone, Daddy was worse than ever, drinking every day, worse than he'd ever been in fact. The good daysnever happened anymore. Daryl no longer bothered to read books or study hard. And after a teacher noticed he was limping again and asked him after class why he'd been missing school, he never went back. The teacher had known, Daryl could see it in his eyes and he couldn't stand the pity he saw there. Everybody knew that his Daddy was a wife-beating drunk and they were nothing but redneck, racist scum. But when the teacher had tried to put his hand on his shoulder and Daryl had flinched from the pain there, Mr Lewis had put his hands around the back of his neck, - the place where it didn't hurt. Then, without a word, he had pulled him to his chest and just held him. It had felt so good to be touched by an adult without being hurt that he had broken down and cried. He couldn't help it. Mr Lewis had told him 'Don't let him beat you down. You're a good kid.' But Daryl had never gone back to school, the humiliation had been too much to bear and he'd never opened a book again. That was until Carol gave him her dead husband's books. She'd asked him why he pretended that he couldn't read. The others in the group thought it was strange that a young redneck and a middle-aged woman were friends. They couldn't understand what the two had in common but then they didn't know about the scars on his back. They knew, of course, her husband had beaten her and after he was bitten, Daryl had allowed her to finish him off. It was a mercy really if he hadn't died then, Daryl might have killed the bastard himself. He'd known what he was the first time he saw him – a red- in-the-face-drunk just like his father. He'd even had the same swagger. Anyway, somehow, Carol had recognised something in himself and she had found out about his secret by accident when he was recovering from his injuries from looking for her daughter. He'd been drugged up with painkillers and it was hot in the room so he'd let the sheet slip down his back as he was dozing on his side. She'd come in with a glass of water and seen the marks from his childhood. Her eyes had widened and she'd given out a little gasp but she hadn't seemed that surprised. He'd been embarrassed and mumbled an apology for letting her see them but she'd said it was OK. Then, she had reached over and given him a peck on the cheek. He had flinched because he always did when someone tried to touch him but she'd said that he was every bit as good as Shane and Rick.

He smiled quietly to himself.


	2. Merle finds out the extent their father's abuse of Daryl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter (Revised) Merle finds out the full extent of their father's abuse of Daryl (contains child physical and sexual abuse, domestic violence)
> 
> Extreme Angst Fest! A total Pathos Party! Some feels for Merle, as well because he also had it extremely rough and because over time, the characters have developed differently in my mind.

During a tussle in the forest after they escape from the Governor's forced gladiator show, Merle tears Daryl's shirt by accident. Like his brother, his filthy and ragged clothes are in bad shape too after being detained by the Governor and are easily ripped. Merle's silent as he stares at Daryl's criss-crossed back covered with faded red and white scars. At the rounded ones left behind from numerous cigarettes. There's also a tattoo on his right side, as if Daryl has been trying to draw attention away from his past injuries. Merle stands for a moment in shocked silence because Daryl's never let him see his naked back since they'd been together again. But Merle hadn't thought anything of it at the time. He also sees the recent bruises over Daryl's kidneys. Now, however, Merle wasn't looking down at them but stares in front of him muttering 'Jesus…' under his breath. He can also see the ribs clearly defined under the fading tan. And even though Daryl had always been on the lean side, he knows that they hadn't fed him. However, Daryl quickly recovers and casts his torn shirt aside but puts on his backpack to hide the scars as if in embarrassment. Then, he scrambles backwards as far away from his brother as he can until a tree trunk in the way stops him.

'Jesus, is that what the Governor did to you, baby brother? I'll kill him. Slowly.' Merle asked stupidly, hopefully, despite knowing the truth. But not wanting to hear it anyway. To hear the accusation in the other's voice.

'No, can't you see that they're old? He barely touched me apart from make me fight with you.' Yet despite his words, Daryl shuddered. Merle didn't miss any of this or that his brother seemed so jumpy but maybe that wasn't surprising since the sick bastard had ordered them to fight to the death. But it wasn't like they'd never fought before, they were both hot-tempered and Merle had not come unscathed from the fight either. Daryl had got some good right hooks in on his face and chest. His throat also had some red fingermarks from when he had tried to choke him. Because Daryl had given Merle has good as he got.

'Was it him?'

'You left me behind in that house. Now you act all surprised.'

'I swear I didn't know ….'

'Cut it out.' Daryl angrily interrupted him. 'You left and this is what I got. You saved your own skin, just like you always do. Don't act like you give a shit now.'

'I didn't know. I didn't think he would do it to you. I had to get out, I would have killed him or he would have killed me. If I had known he was doing it to you as well, I would have come back and finished him off. Why didn't you tell me?

'Tell you? You disappeared off the face of the earth, no posting address, no number, nothing. You left me and Mama behind, that's why she nearly drank herself to death. You know that she was passed out when the fire happened? Yeah, he beat the shit out of her too once or twice but I got the worst of it and I wasn't even big enough to protect her.

Merle shook his head guiltily. 'I didn't know. I thought it was me he hated.'

'He hated all of us. When you left, things got worse. He needed another punching bag and I was it. You know he never really believed in hittin' women.' Daryl laughed mirthlessly. 'When he lost his job…..'

'Why didn't you tell me when I got back?' Merle interrupted him.

'Honestly? Didn't think you'd give a shit. Thought you'd laugh at me for lettin' 'im. Like you always fuckin' did.' His voice rose accusingly.

'But you were jus' a kid...' Merle began but then changed direction by doing something he'd never done to no-one in his life ever before.

He apologised.

'Daryl, I'm sorry…'

But it just seemed to enrage his brother further.'Sorry don't do shit!' Daryl screamed back. 'Fuck you, Merle! Go, get the fuck outta 'ere! I don't need ya ugly, useless ass, never did! You ruin everythin'! I'm goin' back to my people, my real family!'Daryl raged and attacked his brother, first just shoving him away at first and then coming at him again and again with fists upraised to punch him half-heartedly. Merle just stood there, uncharacteristically passive, but not backing away either. Letting Daryl pummel him until his brother's rage ran its course. Until he calmed down, seeming to lose the nervous energy he'd possessed. But the fury still blazed out of his eyes - looked like hatred to Merle. The words stabbing into him because Daryl was only the person Merle gave a shit about, the only person he'd ever needed, who could ever hurt him. Because Daryl wanted his people, his real family who he wanted more than Merle and who would never want Merle. Because Baby Brother no longer saw Merle as his family. Without Daryl, who did Merle have? Did Daryl really hate him? Blame him for the things their father did to him?

'Mama's still dead and besides, the things he did with his belt weren't the worst.' Daryl burst out and then fell silent as if regretting it. He had just wanted Merle to hurt, to know what he had left him to face alone.

'Baby brother, what are you saying?' Daryl looked shamefacedly down at his feet. Anger all gone now. As his shoulders hunched.

'Forget it, it don't matter.' He mumbled.

'Tell me…' Merle ordered softly.

'No, it don't matter anymore.' Daryl couldn't meet his own brother's eyes.

'What do you mean?'

'You know what I mean!'

'Tell me anyway,' Merle asked in an even softer voice.

'Ya really wanna fuckin' know? Well, after Mama wasn't around anymore… he said … he said…a man has certain needs.' The anger faded slowly from his voice and almost became a whisper.

Merle suddenly felt sick. What was his baby brother saying?

'Don't you get the picture?' Daryl suddenly screamed and turned away from him and leaned his forehead against the tree trunk and put his arms round it. And closed his eyes, as if to shut the world out. The whole world, the Walkers, the past, their father, everything including Merle. The experience of being the Governor's prisoner and the forced death-fight and the rabid rabble screaming for Merle to kill him, had taken its toll on him. Now that the adrenalin and his anger had worn off, he was feeling shaky and overwhelmed. Didn't seem to have his usual resilience. He'd also had nothing to eat for days, not that that usually bothered him.

Merle went up to him and tried to touch his shoulder. Just his shoulder for fuck's sake. But Daryl threw his hand off him like it was burning and violently shoved him away.

Merle withdrew.

Should have known.

Merle also wondered if Daryl was telling the full truth about what had happened with the Governor. He'd heard rumours about what happened to prisoners in Woodbury. Something that had made his brother regress?

Because before he got captured by that sick fuck in Woodbury, Daryl had seemed to actually be getting better. Flinching less, more relaxed. Less aggressive. Merle had even seen Daryl smile and laugh from time to time. He had actually walked with his head held high with confidence in his stride when he brought back meat for the group. Knowing people were dependent on him to feed and protect them. And it hadn't escaped Merle the way they looked him, like they loved him. And whatever these people were doing to him, seemed to be working. Especially Carol and Rick, Merle grudgingly admitted to himself. Although Merle hated sharing Daryl with anybody, always had, he had to admit that the group seemed to be good for him. Because Merle never had anyone who had ever looked at him like that except for Daryl. Not even the women he'd fucked. Not even after the act, in bed when women (but not usually those he paid) usually wanted to cuddle up. But then they'd mostly only been deadbeat junkies, methhead skanks and crack whores from their neighbourhood. Still, not one of them had loved Merle. Not even their mother, nobody except for Daryl, once upon a time. But these people were giving Daryl the family they'd never had. Treating him like a person and making him feel like a human being. Daryl, miraculously, despite everything, still had a chance.

Not like Merle.

Now his little brother seemed so uncharacteristically panicky and scared after his tentative, terrible revelation about Daddy. But when they'd been growing up and he'd been like this, Merle would bully him into manning up. Dixon men don't cry! Only niggers and Jew Boys get scared! Toughen up Darlena! What are you, a fuckin' littl' girl? You gonna make me save your worthless hide again? And Daryl would. Merle remembered how his eight year-old brother would stop snivelling and his face would harden into that familiar stony expression and he would stoically face whatever it was. But Merle sensed that this was not the right time because something was really wrongwith Daryl because he seemed terrified, not his usual tough and cocky self at all. On the verge of tears even. Of course he did. Instead, he felt the same surge of inexplicable protectiveness that he'd felt for him in the arena. In front of the predatory Governor and his mob. Again, Merle wondered if something had happened with the man or his men. In any case, some very bad things had happened to Daryl when Merle left home. When his big brother had abandoned him to his fate. Something worse than even the scars on Daryl's back.

Like on Merle's back. On his chest. All over his body.

Merle knew what it was but he was dreading hearing it from Daryl's mouth because then it would be real. His words would make it true and they could never be taken back. His brother's words and the images they would put in his mind would always be there, haunting him on the nights when he couldn't sleep. Most nights than not especially when he couldn't get high or wasted. His father and Daryl in front of his eyes whenever he tried to close them. Even though they'd silently agreed to probably never, ever mention it again. And it would be Merle's fault because he had let it happen. Hadn't stayed and protected Daryl and their mother or at least finished the bastard off properly before he left for good. So that he could never hurt either of them again. Hadn't cared enough. Only thought of himself. Let the only thing he loved in this sick world be ruined, as much as someone like him was capable of love. To be hurt. Be damaged. The only good thing that had been worth saving and protecting in his entire worthless life - sweet Daryl, as he'd called him, always mockingly. He'd failed as a big brother. Had broken his promise to Mama, the one time that she'd shown that she actually cared, to keep Daryl safe from their father. To always protect him.

But then Daryl didn't know that the last time their father had cut him with his knife, he'd gone too deep, cutting into in his chest and had almost killed him. The old man had been starting to unravel, to lose control then. That's when Merle knew that the next time he might kill him or he would kill him himself.

Had he cut Daryl too?

He'd had to get out.

And he'd protected Daryl from this knowledge then, hadn't wanted to burden him. Add to his catalogue of horror movie memories from that house. But now Daryl was telling him that their father had done something else to him – gone even further.

And now, he had to know the whole truth about what had happened with their Daddy when Merle had left to save his own worthless skin.

With unaccustomed gentleness, he asked his brother again, 'Tell me, little brother, what else did he do? ….What did Daddy do? Come on, you've practically told me anyway.' He coaxed.

But there was silence.

He pressed him again, softly. 'Come on. You can tell your big brother'. Merle wasn't aware of it but he was speaking to his brother in the tone he hadn't used with him since Daryl was very little. A baby or toddler perhaps.

Daryl, still not turning around and facing the tree trunk, spoke in a listless monotone. Only his body which started to tremble betrayed any emotion as he hugged the tree closer. Hugging the tree for comfort, not Merle, not a person. Because after what his Daddy did to him, Daryl couldn't trust another human being enough to let one near him. 'A few weeks after Mama died, he started coming into my bedroom at night. Made me do shit to 'im the first few times because he said Mama wasn't there to do 'em anymore because of me. Sick fuck even told me it was my special punishment because I was a very bad boy. Because I killed her.'

Merle tried to swallow but suddenly there was a hard lump in his throat. He tried to keep his voice steady.

'That ain't true. It was an accident.' Merle countered. Then in sudden realisation, 'Fuck.' He said. 'You must have only been about 10.'

Daryl shrugged but still didn't turn round. But his shoulders were still trembling. 'I never told no-one, not even the nosy-ass social worker.' He said. And all Merle wanted to do was put his arms around them to make them stop but he knew what would happen. And the last thing Daryl needed was anyone forcing themselves on him. Again.

'Did he fuck you?' Merle abruptly burst out because he didn't know how to put the question more delicately. Didn't know the etiquette for talking about this kind of thing – how the hell do you ask your younger brother if your father raped him when he was a child? But he had to know how far the twisted bastard had gone with him. Of course he had. Wouldn't have been able to resist. The ultimate violation. But his brutal bluntness seemed to shock Daryl into the reality of what he was saying and he began to sob, quietly at first as he nodded. Then louder, hugging the tree-trunk, still not meeting his older brother's eyes with his back turned to him.

'Yeah.' Daryl admitted in a small, childish voice. 'We...he.. did fuckin' everythin...I begged him to use the belt instead but he wouldn't.' He laughed harshly at this but with a note of hysteria. But then he broke down again as his chest hitching rapidly in and out. Hyperventilating. And Merle didn't laugh at him or call him a soft sissy-boy or littl' Darlena. Because despite himself, Merle began to cry as well. Big, tough, merciless Merle who never cried – hadn't even when he heard about their mother - their father had made sure of that. Only his little brother could ever bring him to tears. Somehow, he felt glad that the bastard hadn't been able to take that away from him, proved he was human after all. Maybe he wasn't a complete monster. Now it all made sense, why Daryl couldn't bear to be touched, why he flinched and backed away from physical contact when there was no real danger. But he'd been getting better. Wasn't just because of the whippings. Merle had been whipped himself and had had even worse. Because even other people's affectionate, harmless touches, even accidental fleeting light contact brought back memories of his father's hands all over him. Being pinned down, helpless.

The pain. The shame. Even though it wasn't his fault.

Had he even ever been with a woman?

Listening to his younger brother's broken, tortured sobs, still holding himself back from touching him with great difficulty, Merle fantasised about the things he would do to their father if he was standing in front of them now. Make him pay for the things he'd done to Little Daryl. Take him to their hunting lodge on the mountain, tie him up and torture him for weeks. Give him a taste of his own sick medicine with inserted sharp objects so that he would beg for death before Merle was through with him. And he would do the other things he'd learnt during interrogations in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Other things like he'd seen happen in prison with those who had preyed on children particularly in that way.

But the bastard was already gone, lucky for him. But Merle thought he knew how he had gone.

Had always known.

Despite himself, Merle couldn't stop the tears. He could cry? He hadn't known that was capable. Had thought that the ability had been beaten out of him, along with his father's belt and the cigarette burns. Along with the shallow stabbings with the kitchen knife which had never been deep enough to be fatal, until the last time when the bastard began to slip. His own scars, especially those ones from the knife, felt like they were burning and writhing on his skin like fiery serpents. Like they were alive. The bastard had known where to stab to avoid the vital organs, how deep he could go - they came from a family of hunters, after all. And at times, he had wished that his father had just once gone too deep and that he could have died. But he'd had to stay alive to protect Daryl. His baby brother had been something to live for. Something innocent and pure in their world where innocence and purity died an early death.

'I didn't know…I didn't know….' Merle said, his voice cracking, trying to make excuses for the unforgivable to his brother. Suddenly he could stand it no longer, he knew that Daryl wasn't going to stop anytime soon, he'd been keeping this shit to himself for God knows how many years. But Merle had always known how to make Daryl stop. Because once he allowed himself to let go which was rarely, his brother really let go just like when he was a baby. Merle remembered Daryl crying for what seemed like hours in their room but probably wasn't (before he learnt that crying or showing weakness was not appreciated in their house) when Mama and Daddy were passed out on one of their drinking binges. Merle had let him cry and hissed at him to 'Shut the fuck up!' and cursed him for being 'A noisy littl' bastard' for keeping him awake but this only aggravated his brother further until Merle feared that their parents would wake up. And if Daddy came in with another pounding headache, angry because Daryl had woken him up, he might hurt the infant. In the end, after what had seemed like hours but probably wasn't, he finally gave in and went to his crib and roughly picked him up. But the baby must have sensed his anger because he started to bawl even louder until Merle held him and stroked his back. Only then, would Daryl settle down and fall asleep, snuggling against Merle's chest. 'Damn you, kid,' Merle whispered but not without some affection,'For making me do this.' And although he had never admitted, even to himself, that he had enjoyed these cosy moments with his little brother, had liked the feel of his baby weight against his own body, had breathed in his clean, baby smell. So different from the other stale smells in their house - of spilt sour beer and whiskey, filth and decay. Why the hell did Daryl like him so much anyway? That he had enjoyed the power that he had over Daryl because he was the only one who could ever get him to sleep.

So, just like then, Merle knew how to make him stop. So, barking 'Come 'ere, boy!' at him he grabbed Daryl roughly and forced him to turn round. And he knew that the state he was in, even though it was only to hold him, Daryl would panic and fight him. Of course he did and somehow Daryl's backpack came off in the process. Luckily, Merle'd taken off his sword from his prosthesis. And Merle knew that he should have probably been more gentle with him but Merle didn't do gentle. Never had. Gentle was for bleeding heart liberal pussies and nigger-lovers. And his brother continued to struggle until Merle shushed him, 'Ain't no-one gonna do any more hurtin.' He soothed. 'It's only me, Ole Merle. It's jus' your big, ugly brother.' And miraculously, a small, tentative smile quivered over Daryl's lips. And when Merle began to stroke his hair with his one hand to calm him, Daryl's trembling slowed, finally stopped and he went limp. 'You're not bad, not bad…it was Daddy, the sick fuck who was bad, not you.' Merle told his younger brother and tightened his arms about him.

Daryl lowered his head to sob into his older brother's shoulder.

'And the fire was an accident. Weren't none of it ya fault. Anyway, ain't nothin' could ever give him the right to do what he did.' Nothin'! Ya hear!' Merle repeated vehemently in his brother's ear and shook him roughly but of course all this only made Daryl cry even harder. But it couldn't be helped even though they both knew that Dixon men never cried. But Merle decided he'd make an exception just this one time as he felt his younger brother hesitantly nod his head and he was finally sure that Daryl finally believed what he was telling him.

Despite their old man's sick lies.

Daryl felt his brother's one good hair on - and in - his hair.

And Merle held his brother even closer.

Surprised that Daryl was letting him. 'Cos boy didn't let no-one touch him, not even Merle.

But difference was – now he knew why.

Eventually, however, Daryl's sobs began to subside and then he finally did push Merle away. 'I'll be OK, now. I'm OK.'

Suddenly, Merle asked coldly, 'Is that why you killed him?'

Daryl looked around in mock disbelief. 'What?'

Merle's eyes narrowed as he spoke again, his tone this time dangerously soft. 'I know you did. Knew it was you as soon as I heard. That's when I knew things must have been bad. Jus' never wanted to know, was all. Drank too much and left the fire burning? Yeah, right. The stingy bastard wouldn't even light the fire if it was 20 below. Same way as Mama went, very smart.'

'It's true!'

'Don't lie to me, little brother. I know you did. Who could blame you? The bastard deserved it. May he rot in hell.'

'OK, I did it. I killed the evil son of a bitch. Sent him straight to hell.' Daryl triumphantly spat on the ground. Callous and hard as nails now. Seemed to have recovered, his breathing was no longer ragged, Merle noted with relief. 'All I know that when he was dead, I felt clean again. And I'll gladly kill any others like him.'

'I don't blame you, little brother. After what he did, I reckon few folks, even Righteous Rick would have a problem with you offing the bastard, even if he was your Daddy.'

'I want to go home. Let's go back and find the rest of the group.'

Home. Merle was happy - seemed like Daryl still wanted him after all. He was even willing to build bridges with the assholes he still hadn't forgiven for leaving him to be eaten to be with Daryl again. 'But I can't go back there after I beat the crap out of the Chinese kid.' He said.

'He's Korean. We'll smooth it over.'

'Whatever. I beat the crap out of him. They'll never accept me.'

'I may be the one walking away but you're the one who's leaving. Again.'

Daryl strode off like nothing had happened and Merle reluctantly followed.


	3. Daryl gets captured by the Governor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before the Governor forces the two brothers to fight each other. A flashback taking place before Chapter 2 which helps to explain Daryl's mental state.
> 
> With reference to torture and male-on-male rape because I can totally imagine the Governor doing that. You know me by now – I don't hold anything back. But please don't read if it will trigger.
> 
> 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.' Friedrich Nietzsche
> 
> 'Mathein-Pathein.' Ancient Greek proverb – (loosely translated) 'To suffer is to learn.'

Daryl was cursing his captors and struggling as they hustled him to the interrogation cells. 'Gi' the fuck off me! I'm gonna fuck ya'll up!' He roared. Then, 'Merle! Merle! What did yer do with my brother?' he screamed as he cried for Merle. He knew that he was here somewhere at the Governor's side. Then managing to get one arm free, he punched the man on his right and it took three of them to subdue him. They pistol-whipped him unconscious and dragged him off.  
He woke up, stripped naked except for his underwear, and tied to what looked like a dentist's chair. There was a cut above his temple that was still bleeding. He shook his head to clear it, felt a dull throb and shivered with a sudden chill despite the heat of the Georgia summer. The Governor was standing across the desk from him and one of his heavies was with him – an overweight Hispanic man in a scruffy black rock T-shirt. His heart began to race, he had special reasons, more than most, for not liking being restrained and he began to sweat, despite having no clothes on. But he arranged his facial expression into one of contemptuous hostility. Mustn't show fear. Don't give the bastard the satisfaction.  
The Governor rubbed his hands. 'Welcome back.' He said courteously. 'Now if you tell us what we need to know, we can get this over quickly and I can let you go back to wherever you came from. Otherwise…' He nodded silently at the open bag of dental surgical instruments on the desk.  
'Yeah, like you'll just let me go back home. Do you think I'm a fucking idiot or something? And where's my brother, Merle?' Daryl's voice rose aggressively. 'Fuck yer. I ain't telling yer nothin'.' The heavy-set man moved threateningly towards him but the Governor waved him back.  
'You'll notice that we've taken the liberty of stripping our prisoners – even the females. Helps in the breaking down process, so my psychological advisor informs me. You should be glad that we didn't strip you completely like they did at Guantanamo Bay. It was a common interrogation technique there - you know how shy those Muslims about their bodies.'  
'Fuck you, I ain't shy. '  
'No, I don't believe you are.' The Governor eyed the lean Hunter's tanned, muscular body appreciatively with his one eye. And something about the way his gaze slithered all over him made Daryl's skin goosebump and a icy chill of fear stabbed his stomach. Was it going to happen again? Nevertheless, he deliberately made his face stony.  
'We already know about the prison. How many of you? What supplies – food and ammo do you have? What is your leader's plan for us? We know that you are close to him.' The Governor asked patiently. 'Just tell me and we'll let you go.'  
'I ain't giving up my people (he meant my family) to you fucking assholes. You'll have to kill me.' Daryl growled.  
'Maybe. But we'll have lots of fun together first.' The Governor said cheerfully. Then changing tack, 'Forgive me but I couldn't help noticing ….- Where did you get all those terrible scars on your back?' 'Was Daddy a little too handy with his belt?' He asked, his voice dripping with fake, syrupy sympathy.  
Daryl broke off his aggressive glare at the Governor and trembled almost imperceptibly at the mention of his father. The Governor didn't miss it – he never missed anything. Even with only one good eye left. This particular prisoner was so vulnerableand this made him especially beautiful to the Governor. At that particular moment, he genuinely wanted to comfort him. So, he approached the prisoner slowly to tenderly stroke a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. As if to soothe him. But Daryl immediately flinched back from his fingers like they burned his skin. 'There, there.' The Governor reassured. 'We won't hurt you like your Daddy did. I promise.' But he was thinking triumphantly Not so tough after all. I can break you now.  
'Tell me, did your Daddy fuck you too? ' The Governor sweetly asked suddenly, seemingly to invite confidence. 'He did, didn't he?'  
But then the prisoner defiantly straightened up again. 'Yeah, he did.' He drawled candidly. 'And I killed him for it.' He spoke tonelessly but raised baby blue eyes so brimming with burning rage and hatred that even the Governor automatically took a step back. Although Daryl was tied to a chair and posed no threat. 'And I'll kill you too, you sick fuck.' Snarling his promise.  
The Governor had been put ill at ease by this fierce and rough inbred redneck, despite himself. Yet the prisoner had more depth to him – he wasn't just the typical white trash stereotype. A particularly intriguing case, he'd never met a man who appeared to be so easily wounded and fragile one minute and then so ferociously strong and defiant the next. A fascinating complex mix of contrasts. What made him even more exciting was that he knew that Daryl could easily snap his neck in a fair fight. But that the Governor had him tied down and at his mercy. In his power. And he felt himself getting aroused with this thought, like with the girl. Even more so, because under different circumstances, this vulnerable prisoner would be a powerful enemy. Therefore, breaking him down was going to be a tricky but rewarding challenge.  
Anyway, he'd had enough of the opening pleasantries. It was clear that the redneck needed some encouragement to talk. What was it with these people? First Maggie and now Daryl. Why did they defy him so? But he liked the stubborn ones, they were always more fun. If the bag of goodies on the table didn't work, he would have to try something else more persuasive he thought as his eyes lingered longingly on Daryl's flat stomach and toned biceps that spoke of a healthy life led outdoors. Out in the green fields and gleaming forests, in the shining sun and fresh air. But he would never again feel the sun's warmth on his skin or breathe in the fresh morning breeze, smelling of pine, coming down from the mountains. The Governor would make sure of that.  
Now, however, he nodded to his heavy to hold Daryl down and picked up a dental drill. 'Now, now.' He said soothingly, raising it aloft as Daryl began to thrash around but suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. The heavy covered Daryl's mouth with his hand so that he couldn't make a noise. 'What now!' The Governor barked impatiently. He'd been looking forward to breaking down this particular prisoner. He strode outside, carefully closing the door behind him. Seeing Merle, he wondered exactly how incest worked in Daryl's family. Had the father fucked the older brother as well, he thought, looking at Merle with new eyes? And had Merle and Daryl shared times of special brotherly bonding? He shook his head at the complexity of family relationships in the uneducated peasant under-classes. He wasn't even going to try to understand. So, he silently ushered the other brother into another empty interrogation room down the corridor. Because of course, he didn't want Merle to know that Daryl was there as a prisoner, it would spoil the nice surprise he had planned for him at tonight's party. The happy reunion. It was lucky that they hadn't heard each other's voices.  
'What is it now?' he asked his second-in-command impatiently. There was trouble at the perimeter and the Governor would have to go out there himself. Probably no time to personally interrogate the prisoner today. Never mind. The details didn't matter – they outnumbered and probably outgunned the prison community with all the arms from the National Guard militia. After all, he didn't need more information to prepare his proactive strike against the prison. Nevertheless, he sighed in disappointment. Well, the festivities would have to do.  
He told Merle to wait and went back to instruct his heavy to take Daryl back to his cell until tonight. To keep him trussed up but get him dressed first in his clothes, ready for tonight. It wouldn't do to scare the audience. But for all of them to leave him alone. He hoped the pretty-boy (pretty in a kind of unkempt, redneck way) killed his older brother, he had special fun-times planned for him. Involving whips, handcuffs and ball-gags. After all, his father had already broken him in, he must be good. He licked his lips lasciviously and felt himself becoming hard at the thought. No, he wouldn't let his boys touch him, he knew that they would fall upon this pretty-boy with his prominent high cheek-bones and muscular body like rabid dogs. Unless he gave them specific instructions not to and he wanted this sweet morsel all to himself. He had discovered raping other men –who needed to be restrained, was even more exciting than forcing himself on women although he had never classed himself as bisexual. But women kind of expected it if they were captured, didn't they? They always had that resigned look of terror in their eyes, expecting the worst. Just look at history and see what happened to women. It was a sanctioned weapon of war. And it was war – war against the prison community who insisted on defying his authority.  
Back in the cells, Daryl tried to stop shaking, to bring himself finally under control. It'd been a close call there with the drill until the Governor was mercifully interrupted. And Daryl had seen the look in the bastard's eye, knew what it meant. Worse – two of the guards including the Hispanic heavy and another weasely one he didn't know had already roughly grabbed his ass and groped his crotch before they'd allowed him to get dressed in his dirty ragged clothes and tied his hands behind him again. They'd mockingly called him 'Daddy Fucker' and 'Sweet Cheeks' and laughed dirtily at that. Finally, the Hispanic (the other asshole had called him Caesar) had stroked his cheek in a way that made Daryl's skin crawl and whispered in his ear 'Maybe he'll let us play with you later, pretty boy. After he's done with you.' Daryl had shuddered and cringed and told them to 'Fuck off and to get their filthy hands off him' before the ferret-faced guard had punched him. He'd only just come to again and he had no idea of how much time had passed. His hands were still bound tightly behind his back but apart from that, he seemed whole and intact. Apart from another throbbing bruise blooming on his other temple.  
In the dark stinking cell, he prayed that they would stay away and instinctively tried to send out calls with his mind to Merle to come and save him, Merle! Merle! He's got me! He's gonna hurt me! Really hurt me! Because without being even aware of it, he'd reverted back to being Little Darlena mocked by Merle for not being tough enough to fight his own battles. But even Little Darlena had finally stood up to their father, pushed to the limits of his endurance when he'd murdered him and got away with it. And Merle had been gone. Finally done what Merle had never had the guts to do although he'd fantasied aloud about it almost daily. Because whenever Daryl had been afraid or in trouble, these silent calls from his mind had often seemed to summon Merle to wherever Daryl was. If he was near enough, that was. Anyway, his big brother had more often than not seemed to know when Daryl was scared and come running to save him. Whether it was some bigger kids picking on him until Merle taught him how to fight properly 'Yer better tough'n up, yer littl' pussy so I don't always have to come a- runnin' to save yer useless hide' or when their father was on one of his drunken rampages, as usual. And given him a light punch on the arm or kick to the leg to emphasise his point. Daryl had heard about this phenomenon with identical twins but never with ordinary brothers but him and Merle weren't exactly normal siblings from a normal family. Maybe that was why. And they'd never spoken openly about it but it was just something that was.  
Merle was walking the city wall perimeter with the Governor, discussing how the defences could be reinforced and where best those on wall duty should be placed. Making good use of his military knowledge and training. Below, the inhuman growls and groans of the Biters could be heard but at safe distance. On the way, he saw Andrea practising target practice, shooting down a Biter with another woman and she waved a greeting to him and the Governor. Suddenly, something made him think of his brother. Just a feeling that he was in trouble and that he was here in Woodbury. He mentally pushed away the prickle of fear running up and down his spine. It would not do good to bring up his brother to the Governor. Merle no longer trusted the man – he seemed to become more and more unhinged of late – especially since he'd lost his eye. And Merle had lied to him about Michonne – it had just seemed easier at the time. He knew that he man did not forgive errors easily. It was just one little white lie – she was as good as dead in the forest, wasn't she? He couldn't have found out could he? He'd seen what happened to those the Governor deemed had betrayed him – many ended up in the screamer pits or in his Saturday night gladiator shows. There was going to be another freak show tonight.  
Later that night, in the arena, Merle would see how the Governor was looking at his baby brother and he'd instinctively got in front of the disorientated Daryl to shield him from the bastard's lecherous gaze with his broader body. He'd never pegged the asshole for being a low-down dirty homo fag. But of course he'd heard the rumours about what happened to prisoners – both males and females, just had brushed them off. After all, he owed the man his life. Then, he'd looked back over his shoulder and checked Daryl over like he used to when they were kids – was he hurt? Had the sick fuck hurt him? Strange, how these thoughts came to him now although his baby brother was a fully-grown man and fully capable of handling himself. Had proved it numerous times in fact - protected the group who depended on him for their survival. And despite himself, Merle found himself thinking these fiercely protective big brother thoughts. Like he was thirteen-year old Big Bad Bro Merle and Daryl was five-year old Little Daryl again. Like when they were kids. Old habits die hard, he thought bitterly. Instincts too.  
Anyway, he knew what the crazy bastard was capable of. And if he'd touched his baby brother, Merle was going to come back and kill the bastard when they got out of there. Kill him slowly. With a whole world of hurt. However, he saw with relief that although looking thinner than usual and with a couple of nasty bruises on his head, Daryl seemed none the worse for wear. But he knew what would happen to Daryl if his brother by some miracle won this fight to the death. The Governor would kill him anyway after he'd had his fun with him.  
Luckily, Daryl didn't notice the Governor right away because after they'd untied his hands and taken off the blindfold, he was gazing around fearfully at the screaming audience. At the Biters being held back for now, trying to get his bearings. Before his facial expression hardened and he went into fighting mode. Swinging from side to side with his fists up. Like Merle had taught him. But Merle wasn't gonna let anything happen to his baby brother. He had to save Daryl – like he used to when they were kids. Before he went away and abandoned him. This time him and Daryl were going to be together forever and he never going to leave him ever again. He was going to save them both. But he would have to hurt Daryl first – this was what the psycho had forced him to. Hurt Daryl first in order to save him.


	4. The Governor's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduces Woodbury and the Governor and gives some background to his character. How he became the man he is. Contains reference to sexual assault/rape

It was a bright, early morning on the streets of Woodbury. The Governor, a tall, slim but well-built blond man in his forties strode efficiently along the gleaming Main Street of his town, black boots thudding on the pavement. His long legs forcing Milton to try to keep up with him as he prattled on about his latest experiments and what he thought he had found out. The handsome self-appointed leader of Woodbury was only half-listening. God! He could be such a bore at times! The man actually fancied himself as a scientist! He'd been a social studies lecturer at the university down in Atlanta and had been visiting his sister at Woodbury when the epidemic broke out. Unfortunately, she'd been one of the first victims. Milton was investigating whether the Biters still might retain some of their old personality and memories, he'd tried first on Mary but then he had to put her down. His latest case was a 70 year old cancer patient who had volunteered to be a guinea-pig. If they ran out of volunteers and that seemed likely, thought the Governor, they would start having to find an alternative source of test subjects. He didn't know if the man was just deluded but he desperately hoped that it was true – Penny did seem to quieten down when he played–Bye, Baby Bunting to her. Sometimes, it even seemed like that she was singing (moaning?) along. It used to be her favourite nursery rhyme, after all, the one he sang to her before he tucked her into bed at night. But now he 'put her to bed in the closet' every night and the thought of the closet led to unwelcome others about her deteriorating body. Such as her long hair which he still tenderly brushes every day which used to be so thick and gleam with a healthy chestnut hue that was now falling out in clumps and the spreading mottled patches of discoloured skin. All over her. And her smell. Getting stronger day by day, so that now he could detect her odour faintly in his office even when she was shut-up. Nevertheless, he refused to admit to himself that it nauseated him as he pushed these disturbing thoughts away. She was his secret and if this bumbling bureaucrat ever found a cure, she would be at the head of the queue for treatment. Because he couldn't lose her as well, not while there was hope because after Anne was gone, she was the only family she had left. He refused to think that Penny was really gone too.  
The thought of his dead wife led him to unwillingly recall that tragic icy winter's night three years ago. He's driving them back from a co-worker's New Year Eve's party. Except that he's had too much drink, so as Anne although he's far less worse for wear than she is. She was tripping up on herself, could barely walk in her high heels – fell flat on her ass in front of everybody with her otherwise elegant short midnight blue dress rucking up to show her silk underwear. And her shapely legs. Had always been proud of her figure, was Anne, he thought sourly. But he'd never been so humiliated in his life. The other wives and girlfriends twittering behind their hands – laughing at her, laughing at him. He could tell in their eyes that they knew. His wife's voice slurring – not even making any sense, the laughing stock of the gathering. But he knows why he drank so much that night, more than his usual limit of two small glasses. The knowledge, the shame, the humiliation. So he decides to drive them the two hour drive home. Before she got too wasted, he saw him and Anne cosying up together, in the kitchen corner over the punch-bowl when they think no one is looking. But he knows better. He knows what's going on has known for months but decides as usual to ignore it. Doesn't say anything –doesn't confront either of them. Just pretends that nothing is wrong despite the signs - his wife hasn't let him touch her for over half a year and sometimes when she looks at him, she seems so resigned, so tired. So disappointed in him and the mediocre middle-class life he can offer her. And she drinks - a bottle of red wine a day, sometimes two, occasionally even three on the bad days. Often she screams at him 'Why can't you be a man? Why do you let your best friend treat you like this? You work all hours for jack-shit! You could take over the company yourself! Or become a partner! Get some balls and ask him for a payrise! We have to pay for Penny's school fees and we don't have enough money! We never have enough!'But he can't think of anything to say in return. He can't confront his boss he needs the job and new positions are hard to come by in the recession. And his employer knows this and takes full advantage of the situation. They've all had their pay frozen and a cut in bonuses, not just him. The sword of redundancy is hanging all over their heads, like the sword of Damocles. Neither can he confront old school friend about what he is doing behind his back with his wife, either.  
The roads were clear when they left but then it starts to sleet – and cover the road with black ice. It's New Year's Day after all. And then the oil- truck hits, skidding on the road – his wife forgot to put on her seat belt and he didn't check her. It's his fault! Luckily, Penny isn't with them, the one blessing to be grateful for, the party was on too late for a five year old. So she's with the teenage babysitter waiting for them at home. Anne dies on impact, her skull blooming blood roses and her neck snapped broken. He can tell immediately that she's dead, you didn't have to be a paramedic to see that but he's in too much shock and pain to register this properly. He's escaped, (if you could call it escaped with your wife sitting dead beside you)with bad whiplash and a few minor cuts and bruises, mainly to his forehead.  
Still walking briskly while unwillingly recalling the past, he made his way to the Town Hall where he had a job to do. As they went along, various townsfolk obsequiously greeted the Governor with calls of 'Good Morning' or a smile and a nod. They were going about their business – shopping, visiting friends, drinking coffee in the cafes – even work. He nodded back and smiled politely, even using the names of the ones he knew. He remembered how they had yammered and clamoured 'Save us! Oh, oh save us!' like the stupid, screaming, sobbing sheep they were. Just begging for a leader –any leader. So he'd stepped up and got the job. He hadn't been surprised, he'd always been good at public speaking, using persuasive words, projecting the right image to sway the masses. After all, he'd been the marketing and promotion manager in his friend's company – knew how to talk the talk. His commercials had brought thousands in profits to the company not that he had seen much of the profits.  
Yet now - he owned the town and he owned the people. He was not a mere man but The Man. He was finally being a man. If only Anne was here to see him now, she would be proud of him, he knew.  
Yes – most people had jobs –he'd been proud of his employment policy and the children would go to school and be taught by adults (they were lucky – one or two had teaching degrees) as normal. This was all part of the image of normalcy that he carefully cultivated – if you woke up here from a coma you might think that the epidemic had never happened. Moreover, if people told you about it, you'd feel like it was some horrific nightmare but yet so removed from life in Woodbury it was no more than that. Because of the various guards placed on along the perimeter walls – on rota to protect the townsfolk within their boundaries. Most adults took were already trained to shoot or stab on target but there was also a special military division made up of ex-cops, security guards and bouncers. These people protected the city walls because the Governor never did anything without precise planning and organisation. So this buffer made life in his little town seem really removed from the harsh reality outside it. Where the Biters roamed free. Why were people so scared of them, really? As long as they didn't attack you en mass or in a herd as Andrea had coined the term, they were pretty slow and stupid. A trained child could kill one. Yes – maybe that would be a good idea – train the children to kill Biters and guard the perimeter.  
He'd thought about what had happened with Maggie – God knows he'd never hurt a woman before. Had barely ever raised his voice to Anne or Penny let alone ever put his hands to them. In the old world, he had despised men like that. It was true – a few people like him came into their own when the Apocalypse happened. Now that the rules of the game had changed and now he was in charge around here. During the interrogation, knowing that she could hear her boyfriend getting the crap beaten out of him next door (he'd chosen these sheds with their thin walls as interrogation cells deliberately) and her badly concealed fear he knew was for the boy, not for herself, he'd found himself becoming aroused. So he'd made her strip and felt himself getting hard when he saw her pert, young breasts. So sweet - how she'd tried to hide them so shyly but it had only turned him on more. Especially the look of terror in her eyes as he ran his eyes deliberately slowly all over her body. Then he'd removed his belt and undone his pants – to make his silent threat all the more clear to her to intimidate her into giving up her group's location. Then slammed her down on the table and thrust himself against her to terrify her even more. So she could feel his hardness ready for her. And he was going to make her tell him and then do it anyway. Finally, he was being a man like his wife had told him to be because powerful men simply took what they wanted from others. Forced others to do what they wanted them to do. But the girl had refused to say anything and steeling herself, told him to do what he had to do calmly with a 'Fuck you' thrown in. With no tears, no pleading for mercy, he felt his erection wither into nothing. Who had ever said power was the greatest aphrodisiac? They were wrong – it was fear. He couldn't do it after all. Suppressing his frustration, he'd dragged her out of the room and decided to change to another tack – so he threatened her to kill the boyfriend instead in front of her. And he'd told the battered boy that he would kill Maggie. That worked – then both of them couldn't wait to give up their friends and their location. So, their love for each other was greater than their loyalty to their group. Never mind, he couldn't let them go but maybe he would keep the girl around to play with – she was a sweet honeybun and anyway, since the Apocalypse, his libido had been raging. These days, he couldn't get enough sex, even though he had the lovely, more than accommodating Andrea in his bed. For the boy, maybe Milton could use him for his experiments on the Biters.  
Living in a prison! There would be lots of ammo and supplies there. Now he could go after them – if they wouldn't join him, they were against him. In any case, they remained a threat to him and to his authority. With Daryl's and Maggie's people out there, Woodbury would never be safe. He would have to take action. And soon.  



	5. Daryl's childhood continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note to the reader: contains harrowing sexual and physical abuse, so please be warned. I guess I am writing from a very dark place but I want to show how amazing it is that Daryl has survived at all and kept his humanity after such a horrific childhood. I want to people to just understand his background first and where he's coming from before I focus on the story in the present. But things will get better for Daryl, I promise.

He tossed and turned in bed while Carol and the others were on duty outside, - on watch, doing their endless washing or cooking or bitching about Shane and Lori or whatever else they did. He was still recovering and with the painkillers and whiskey wearing off, found himself going back to where he never wanted to be again – the place he blocked out when he was awake. The past is another country that we can never escape from, no matter how far we try to get away from it.

He's ten years old again, nearly eleven. His older brother Merle has just taken off – he had defended their mother against one of their father's violent drunken rages but then he had just left Daryl to face his father's wrath. Of course, Daddy had never really hurt him yet, not like he'd punished Merle, apart from the odd slap or kick to the shins. So that's why Merle had probably left him because he thought he would be safe. For a while he was – Daddy focused his resentment at the absent Merle – cursing his abandoning them. Although to Daryl, it had always seemed that he had wanted Merle to leave – that Merle was a hopeless cause (Ya useless sack of shit, git the fuck outta 'ere!). So, Daryl couldn't understand why Daddy seemed so upset at his leaving. Daddy seemed cowed for a while but then when his face began to heal from his older brother's thrashing, he got his strength back. That's when he starts whipping Daryl with his belt for spilling paint in the barn, for forgetting to buy milk in the store– for supposedly answering back or showing disrespect. Just like he used to punish Merle, for any reason really. Daryl is replacing Merle as the focus of Daddy's rage, especially when he loses his job at the local car garage because of drinking. The recession is in full swing and Daddy can no longer rely on the odd jobs that used to keep them from the edge of poverty. Daddy is home all day, every day and there's hardly any money – the money they have, he spends on drink. In his drunken rages, he attacks Mama and Daryl, Daryl wants to leave but he feels he should stay for Mama, who after all, is a bed-bound invalid. When he can, young as he is, he tries to divert Daddy's rage from Mama, just like Merle used to. He's also learnt a way to take himself to somewhere else, to leave when Daddy hurts him, so he can't even feel the pain until afterwards.

Then the terrible thing happens. One evening, Mama passes out from the liquid she drinks from her 'medicinal' flask and leaves several cigarettes burning in the ashtray on the table. Unfortunately, they set the curtain alight and then his parents' bedroom. And because Daddy and Daryl have been out on a long hunt, when they drag out her body and extinguish the fire, it's too late. The fire crew come round but declare her dead from smoke inhalation at the scene but they manage to save most of the house. Daryl and Daddy grieve together but they work for a few months restoring it themselves.

About a week after the funeral, after a particularly savage punishment with his father's belt that left life-long faded red and white scars on his body, Daryl 'got lost' in the woods for more than a week. He fended for himself by shooting down prey such as squirrel and eating nuts and berries. When he came back and made a sandwich in the kitchen, his father, who always started drinking when he woke up, hadn't even noticed that he'd been gone.

A few weeks later, Daddy started acting strangely. He would come into Daryl's bedroom and into his bed and say that he needed some 'comfort' because Mama was gone. He said that it was what all fathers and sons did just no one talked about it but Daryl never dared to ask Daddy if he and Merle had done these secret things too.

Daryl was just eleven years old.

At the same time, Daddy stopped beating him with the belt. And during these times in his bedroom, although he said that this was his 'special' punishment for being a 'very bad boy', he never told him what he was supposed to have done. Although he tells him that its partly his punishment for killing his Mama.

So, Daryl began to unconsciously think that it was something in him that was born bad, something that couldn't be put right ever.

When Daddy was hurting him in this way instead of using his belt, Daryl found it more difficult to 'go somewhere else'. After one time, when Daddy cuffed him to the bed, held a knife to his throat and shoved a dirty rag into his mouth, Daryl decided that he couldn't take anymore.

He was twelve years old.

It was a particularly brutal attack as his father didn't stop all night long. The next day, Daryl decided that he'd had enough – he was old enough to know what he and his Daddy did was 'unnatural', despite what his father said. That night, he saw his father passed out on the couch and lit the unlit fire (luckily it was a cold winter's night) until the flames rose higher and higher. Then, he messed up the living room as quietly as he could, sure that his father would not wake up in his drunken stupor (he'd been drinking whiskey and vodka with rum and coke all day). Daryl then smashed some ornaments from the mantle-piece and broke a couple of chairs. Finally, he took a burning log and threw it at the curtains. People would think that his father had got drunk and thrown stuff around as usual. When the police asked where he was, he would tell them he slept in the forest. Everyone in the hill village knew that whenever his Daddy beat him severely, he would run away to live in the woods. That he was capable of surviving there even in the middle of winter and that his hunting and trapping skills were legendary, even at such a young age.

Anyway, the whole house could burn down he didn't care, as long as it meant his father would never do that to him again. The house did burn down before the neighbours noticed (they used to drink and smoke meth sometimes with Daddy) and called the Fire Department. Later, Daryl thought it was ironic that both his parents had died in the same way, both passed out from liquor and in house fires. He was sorry about Mama of course, but felt glad that Daddy would never be able to touch him again.

He'd blocked out these memories for a very long time until when he saw Merle again, they started to come flooding back. He tried not to think about them during the day, everyone had to focus on survival. Then Merle had seen the scars on his back and made him tell him his secret shame.

But they often haunted his sleep. Carol came back to find Daryl tossing and turning, threatening to tear the stitches in his side. She listened while he whispered in an unrecognisable little boy's voice, 'Please Daddy, don't…don't do that.' He whimpered. 'I'll be a good boy, I'm good, no, don't. Gi' off me. Please don't.' he begged. She instinctively knew what he was dreaming. She gently stroked his hair and whispered 'Sh..sh…, you're safe, you're safe. Daryl, he can't hurt you anymore.' And Daryl didn't wake up but he began to quieten, as if he had responded to her voice in his sleep. Finally, his thrashing limbs began to relax and he fell into a light sleep.

And she knew that would die first before she ever told any of this to him. That she knew. She'd guessed, anyway, the aggressive (sometimes violent) reaction when he felt the least bit threatened, the self-loathing veiled thinly by an outside veneer of toughness and strength. The almost hostile reclusiveness aimed at keeping others at a distance.

But the strength wasn't a lie.


	6. Andrea almost kills Daryl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea nearly kills Daryl and Carol gets closer to him while he's recovering from his injuries

Earlier that day.  
Daryl stumbled forwards, half dead, the arrow sticking out of his side, his makeshift bandage and vest bloody and getting bloodier. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his pierced side. 'Com'on motherfucker, com'on you stupid son of a bitch. Got yourself impaled by your own damn arrow. Darlena, you stupid redneck bastard.' He muttered incoherently to himself. He made it to the edge of the field just in view of the look-out posts set up by Rick. Andrea was on duty with her binoculars and cried out excitedly 'Walker'! Her cry was quickly taken up by the others.  
'No, no! It's me! It's Daryl!' He tried to shout but had no strength left. 'Don't shoot!' But his voice only came out in a croak. He staggered forth as fast as he could go.  
'Just the one?' Someone shouted.  
'Yep. No problem, I'll take it.' Andrea shouted gleefully, eager to prove her worth to the group. Quickly, she took her crossbow and drew it back. She shot her arrow but luckily she still needed practice because it missed Daryl's head and pierced his shoulder instead. He went down like a sack of potatoes, already mercifully unconscious. By then, Andrea's gleeful expression changed into one of horror as she realised her mistake. 'Oh my God, oh my God, Daryl!' she screamed as she ran forward. 'Don't die, don't die!' By then Rick and Shane had reached the injured man and lifted him up. They half carried and half-dragged him across the field to the medical tent.  
'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.' Andrea kept repeating but of course Daryl couldn't hear her. She turned to the others. 'Will he be OK'?  
Rick answered her calmly. 'I think so if we get him seen to right away. The wounds don't look serious just messy.'  
Andrea looked back behind them and spotted something white gleaming on the field. She sprinted back and picked it up and showed it to the others. 'Look at what he was bringing back. He found Sophia's doll.'  
Back in the trailer, Carol is gazing down on Daryl's lean and tanned body while holding her daughter's doll in her arms. Daryl keeps waking up and falling asleep again, mainly from the painkillers and physical exhaustion. She's just washed and dried it in the sun outside it being quite dirty – covered with dirt, grass and even some blood. Daryl's? She hopes it wasn't Sophia's. He begins to stir again from his drugged slumber. He slowly opens his eyes and smiles at her. His smile is almost boyishly innocent and it illuminates his whole face, in contrast to the usual snarl that he shows to the outside world.  
Daryl's smile slowly dies as if he suddenly remembered where he was and it is replaced by his normal stern expression. He frowned. 'I'm sorry I couldn't find her for you.' He croaked.  
'You tried your best.' Tears came into her eyes at the thought of her lost daughter and she looked away so he wouldn't see them. 'Here have some water.' She held the paper cup up to his lips as he sipped.  
She smoothed back a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead, ignoring his flinch. 'I see you, Daryl. You aren't the sum of the things he did to you. I saw you when I first met you. You aren't just what you pretend to be. Give it time and the others will see you as well. I see your goodness and your compassion for my little girl. Your strength.'  
'Jus' like yer ain't all the things that bastard did to you?' He retorted angrily as she took his empty cup away.  
'Would you like some more?' She asked him but he shook his head. 'Thanks.' He said gruffly, as if in afterthought.  
'I'm not saying that stuff doesn't change you but you didn't lose yourself. You didn't let him ruin you.' She continued. Some indefinable emotion flickered behind his eyes as he lowered them, some sharp pain from the past that he didn't want her to see but that she caught a glimpse of anyway.  
'It was your father who did that to your back, wasn't it?' She asked him softly.  
He hunched his shoulders defensively and looked down at his lap as he nodded. 'Yeah. But I ain't no saint. I've done some bad stuff you don't want to know.'  
'You mean killed someone to survive? We've all done that by now.'  
Daryl didn't meet her eyes.  
'You could say I did even before the Apocalypse.'  
Carol looked a little shocked but said nothing. Daryl continued hurriedly, as if he has revealed too much.  
'Well, I didn't find your little girl. What the hell of any use am I?' He burst out abruptly.  
Carol reached over and gently put a hand on his arm. For once, he didn't move away when touched like he usually did but left his arm right where it was. 'But you've tried longer and harder than anyone else in the camp. You've done more for Sophia than her father ever did her whole life. I'll never forget it until the day I die.'  
'But I didn't find her.' He insisted.  
She let go of his arm. 'But you bought her doll back for me and there's still hope. I can feel that she's not gone, a mother knows these things. I know we'll see her again. She came to me in a dream last night – she was in this beautiful green field full of beautiful white flowers – roses I think.'  
'That's crazy.' Daryl laughed but not unkindly. 'But I hope it comes true.'


	7. Rick's Dilemma, more Merle POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's dilemma (events leading to Merle's death), more Merle POV in his last moments, another chance to trawl through the bottomless, black abyss that is his mind.

Rick was tossing and turning, the sweat dripping down his face and back. He could see Lori again in the long, flowing white dress she wore when they were 18, the first time he saw her. Her long, dark hair was streaming out behind her but there was no breeze, her bright red painted mouth slightly open. Now she was everywhere - in the corners of his room when he looked around or suddenly in front of him. When she sat on his bed, he could sense it sink slightly with her weight. But she said nothing, merely looked at him. Was he going crazy again? She even looked as she had back then the first time they'd met. When they never could have imagined this kind of world lying in wait for them in the deceptively far-off future. But the time that they'd been allowed together had been painfully short. 18. Impossibly young, fresh and innocent. How naïve, believing that the best was yet to come. That they would finally own the house from his cop's salary and grow old together with their grandchildren playing at their feet. What did mortgages and bank loans matter anymore? What use was money? The only thing that mattered now was sheer survival – and that meant having adequate shelter, food and weapons. These were the currency of this savage New Age. If they had known, would they have done anything different? Would they still have had had Carl? Lori had tried to get rid of the second child but then changed her mind, vomiting up the pills at the last minute. Then she'd screamed at him how could he expect her to bring a baby into a savage world like this just to be ripped apart and fed upon? He'd cruelly retorted 'Was it Shane's?' to let her know that he knew. Not that they were ever likely to find out. Did it even matter who's she was? Real, living humans had become precious because they'd already lost so many people. And Shane and Lori were gone, this baby, whoever she was, didn't have any other parent other than Rick.  
He'd tried his best to love her and it was getting easier – nevertheless it was difficult knowing that she was the cause of his wife's death and possibly the ever-present reminder of his wife's infidelity. But they didn't know that for sure. Lori's death had caused Rick to go into temporary meltdown – if not for Daryl and a few of the others, the baby would have died for sure. But Daryl had taken to her immediately – he didn't care who's she was and had simply showered love on her. Rick hoped that this would more than make up for his shortfall. For this and for saving her, Rick would always be grateful to him because Daryl had refused to lose anyone else. This spontaneous act of human compassion had forged an unbreakable bond of trust and mutual respect between the two men and Daryl would now obey Rick's orders. Moreover, Daryl had proved himself a good and fair leader and capable of protecting the group numerous times. Rick had seen that Judith always brought a sweet smile to the gruff Hunter's face when he tenderly picked up 'the littl' ass-kicker'' to hold her or feed her after his daily exertions. So, Carol and Beth would always save the last feed before bedtime for him, as Daryl insisted. But Rick worried that the little baby sensed that he himself was withholding some of his love. Some people said that children, even infants could sense this, couldn't they? He hoped not. In any case, he hoped that being the little darling of the group would more than make up for it- most of the others also showered affection on her and treated her like a kind of lucky mascot for their group.  
Why bring a baby into this living hell? Why indeed? Because human beings had to have hope. No matter what you did to them, they would keep on trying, never give up. Well most of them didn't and it was Rick's job to keep their hope alive as well as their physical bodies. Of course, there had been exceptions - Andrea and Beth had both wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again and he'd heard that the epidemic had brought on a spate of suicides. Although now Rick still shouldered the burden of responsibility for the others more than ever, at least he could now share it with Daryl. And Lori had sacrificed herself for this baby even though she had known that having it would probably kill her. One day Rick would show Judith photos of her beautiful mother and tell her how much she had loved her and what she had done for her. How she had loved her before she was even born. For the most part.  
And Carl would die to protect his little sister. Just like Lori had told him to. Burdened him with too much responsibility before she died but what else could she do? None of the old rules applied anymore. Yet this burden was so crushing for someone so young. In another life he would have been arguing with them about watching TV instead of doing his homework or shooting monsters on his computer instead of killing them in real life.  
Ah Carl, the child who would never ever get back his childhood. Rick sighed. He was so young – just 12 years old but already had the old, knowing eyes of someone 5 times his age. Shane had taught him to shoot and kill Walkers by stabbing them in the head and Carl had already shot his first living people – some of the Governor's men when they came to attack the prison. He'd also protected his mother and Maggie when Lori was giving birth. So, Rick no longer worried when the boy went off into the forest on his own which he did frequently. Without telling anyone where he went or what he was doing. Rick didn't bother to enquire anymore because this was too much like how parents and children used to behave in the old world. Often, when the boy spoke these days, he sounded eerily like a stern little adult then cold, icy cold fingers would slither down Rick's spine. Then he would feel that familiar stab of guilt because Carl had been the one who had to kill his own mother properly so that she couldn't come back. Because that would have been far worse. What had it done to his son? It should have been Rick who had finished her off. Worse, the only time Carl sounded like the child he was these days was when he woke up screaming and sobbing in the night, dreaming again about shooting his mother in the head. Only then would he let his father hold him and rock him back to sleep.  
Was she really there? He begged her to tell him what he should do but she remained silent – only an enigmatic smile haunting her lips. Michonne. The Governor's offer was too tempting – peace for them if they gave her up. She wasn't a real member of the group – kind of a loner who hadn't bothered to form any bonds except with Andrea. Maybe she was lesbian although he hadn't sensed any vibes like that between them – more like a sisterly love. In fact, she intimidated most people and made them uncomfortable because she never smiled but looked straight through you. Usually in icy silence to your friendly greeting or your question. Had never really reached out to anyone except Andrea but no doubt she had been through hell, out there by herself for months. And those Walkers she had had as pets, like trophies – that was creepy in itself, even if she had used them for camouflage. Cut off their arms and bashed their teeth out with rocks. Her icy glare alone could petrify you like a beautiful dreadlocked Medusa. In fact, he reasoned, the only person who would be upset about her loss would be Andrea but he reckoned but no-one else outside the inner circle needed to know. He could lie about what had happened to Michonne, couldn't he? She wouldn't find out, would she?  
Take the easy way out.  
Those two had spent the winter together while Michonne tried to save Andrea's life. Andrea had been very sick. But Michonne had proved herself in battle – had even wounded the Governor – unfortunately not fatally. So now that he had this difficult dilemma before him.  
He was the leader and he felt the full weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. He could listen to Daryl's and Herschel's advice, but in the end it was his decision, his alone. There was no instructions manual to follow about what he should do in this situation and in any case, the outdated moral code didn't apply anymore. Who was to say what was fair or right now? Where were the courts and judges? Morality, in any case, was relative and he had only his conscience to go on. Now that the old world had passed away – it was just the Living and the Dead and the living Undead.  
Rick knew intuitively that Daryl would now obey without question to do whatever Rick asked. Although he might protest first. No, Daryl wouldn't like it – he was far too honest because what you saw is what you got with Daryl. A man with a strict code of honour. But if Rick decided to hand her over, he'd want Merle to do it. He'd never liked Daryl's crude and loud-mouth brother and the way he treated him. Putting him down all the time, calling him a 'Soft Pussy', 'Pansy Homo', 'Baby Lover' and 'Dumb as Shit Daryl.' At these times he'd felt a surge of protective anger at seeing him being beaten down verbally by his older brother but had decided to stay out of it – it would only make Daryl look bad. Besides, most times Daryl gave his big brother as good as he got. Still, he couldn't help wondering if that's what Merle had done to him when they were kids? But Rick had an idea that a lot worse had happened to Daryl, probably at the hands of his father- just call it an intuition. Merle had also started teasing Carol and Daryl mercilessly about their friendship, making smutty innuendo about the two of them to embarrass them in front of everybody. Daryl would go red and look at the ground and Carol would laugh nervously and tell Merle to shut up. And who could forget what he'd done to Glenn and that he'd been the Governor's man? Nearly executed him and Maggie. How much would it take for him to betray them and go back to him? Probably the only thing stopping him was his brother in Rick's camp. Probably the only person he would ever be loyal to. Yes, the betrayal would be the perfect job for Merle. And Rick couldn't help hoping that somehow he wouldn't make it back. Better for Daryl – better for everyone. Although Daryl probably wouldn't see it that way but he'd be better off in the long run.  
No, Rick didn't like loose ends or loose cannons in his group. They were dangerous. Besides, he was a neat man who liked order. He'd made his decision and would tell the inner circle tomorrow. Later he would change his mind but it would be too late for Daryl's older brother.  
Finally, Daryl's brother had done the right thing and released Michonne to continue the good fight back at the prison. Merle knew that she would be a valuable asset – she who'd managed to survive for months alone in the forest. Had had the ingenuity to make pets of the Walkers and use them as protection. Tough like his baby brother, Merle thought as his last thoughts turned to Daryl. But could he survive without him? At least in the end everyone would know that he had finally done what was right, if the black bitch told the truth and she ought to – that he'd let her go. She'd appealed successfully to his humanity – guess he wasn't such a badass after all. Released her rather than give her up to that monster who resembled his father in so many ways – just that he was more handsome, better educated and had a more persuasive way with words. Merle knew that monsters came in all shapes and guises – some were just better at hiding their true natures than others. Did Rick really think that the Governor would just stop and forget about them – the prison community that he didn't control and that posed a possible threat? For someone so smart, Rick was really dumb at times. He remembered how the Governor had ordered him and his brother to fight to the death in the makeshift arena where they'd set Walkers on them. Having just found Daryl again, the sick bastard commanded him to kill his own baby brother, just for the entertainment of the braying mob. Merle recalled the look of fear and confusion in Daryl's eyes as he'd glanced sideways at Merle. Always the gentle one, his baby brother. Too gentle for his own good although Merle had tried to teach him. And Merle had to hit him first, really beat the shit out of him to put on a show for the Governor so that they could escape before Daryl started fighting back, just as viciously. And those ordinary townspeople who had turned into a blood-thirsty mob – animals reverted back to their most base instincts, yelling him on to kill his own little brother. How they had resembled the Walkers in their growls and snarls when whipped up in a frenzy by that psychopath. Before Rick and the others had come and saved them. Remembering this, Merle had finally given in to Michonne's arguments. He hadn't wanted to do it anyway but he thought that he would gain acceptance, maybe even forgiveness from the group so he could stay with Daryl. Now he realised the opposite would have been true.  
But it was too late to turn back – he was sure that he could kill the sick bastard by himself. If he killed him, then he could return and maybe be forgiven. In any case, he had to protect Daryl - the Governor would never stop hunting him now. Hell – he didn't even want to be with those people but his brother refused to leave them for some reason. He just wished that they'd had more time together after being reunited, so much time lost because he'd walked out that door. Because he'd been a coward and run away and left his baby brother behind to face that twisted monster. Alone. To not be only physically scarred by their him - he could tell by the way Daryl flinched or cringed sometimes at nothing. When all Merle had ever wanted was to protect him. Make sure he was safe. 'Cos Baby Brother wasn't like Merle, he couldn't take the hits as well. Merle guessed he'd always known that. But then the perverted fuck had gone further with him than he had with his older brother.  
He admitted that he hadn't always been kind to him, had teased him a lot but it had been for his own good. Played harmless pranks on him sometimes. But he'd always made sure that Daryl knew that he loved him, even if he had been cruel to be kind. Always made sure he had enough to eat, even if he had to go stealing and protected him from their father's rages when he was there. But he knew that his brother hated him for leaving, saw it as an unforgiveable betrayal. Would Daryl ever forgive him for what he'd allowed to happen to him? Did he still love him like he used to? Or had he withdrawn the love he used to have for his older brother to share among the group instead?  
He would have put things right between him and the group. Because that's what Daryl wanted and he owed his brother so much. Daryl who, especially deserved to be cherished and happy like he knew he was with these people. Could tell how they looked at him with affection and respect, how they cared about him, how they trusted him with their lives - neither of them had had this from their own family. He was even grateful that Carol was there to look after his baby brother if he couldn't be there.  
Could they have eventually looked at Merle in the same way? He wanted to change, would have changed for Daryl.  
But now it was too late. He'd let the black bitch go and gone after the psycho himself because even he drew the line at some of Governor's sick shit. For example, what he'd tried to do to him and Daryl and the things he would do to her when he had her finally in his clutches. No poor bastard deserved what he would do to them. Now he was in agony from the two fingers the bastard had bitten off but ignoring the pain, he'd lunged at him with his sword arm. One last bold attempt at defiance but the Governor overpowered him. Merle knew that he was beaten. Then, the last image came to his mind of an early summer's day in a beautiful green meadow, near their house surruounded by the rustling forest. It had been their favourite place and he knew that this was where he would wait for Daryl.  
But then he spotted his little brother there as a plump five-year old, toddling towards a single, lonely white rose, glowing gold in its centre. His brother was smelling it but not picking it. Merle walked over and his baby brother looked up to him and smiled like he used to. Like he was the god of their world who could protect him from all its monsters. Such an innocent smile, sweetly dimpling his plump cheeks with his bright blue eyes sparking joy seemingly coming from within. A smile for happier times. And Merle knew that Daryl loved him then, still loved him now. But this time, Merle didn't mock him but smelled the rose too. Sniffed its heady, summer sweet perfume. It was one of the few times they had been happy because Daddy had gone away on a weekend-long hunting trip with his drinking meth-head buddies. Knowing that he wouldn't be waiting for them when they got home.

'Good night, baby brother.' He whispered so the Governor wouldn't hear.

Then louder. 'I ain't gonna beg.' He told the Governor. And he held onto the memory.

'No.' the other replied simply.  
The shot rang out.


	8. Daryl has to kill Merle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl has to kill Merle when he turns, Rick comforts him

Daryl crossed the field strewn with dead corpses, his hunting dagger swinging by his side and his trade-mark crossbow dangling from his back. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach but without knowing why. He wasn't scared of the mindless hordes or of the Governor and his men so why did he feel so full of dread? Where was Merle, anyway? On the way, he dispatched a few walkers who were gorging themselves on half-consumed body parts. He had seen so many that they no longer disgusted or made him want to put them out of their misery.

Until he saw a blonde crew-cut bobbing up and down, the walker feeding with its face buried in the corpse's stomach. Their favourite part was always the entrails. Then his older brother's head rose from the body, trailing steaming bloody intestines from his dripping, red mouth and Daryl noticed the bloody gunshot wound in the middle of his white vest. Was that what killed him? Why hadn't who ever shot him made sure he wouldn't come back? Who could be so cruel? Who would leave him here for his baby brother to find? His brother's eyes were a feral yellow and the snarl was already rising from his throat but for one brief moment he imagined that there was a glimpse of recognition and then it was gone. That Merle was trying to reach out a hand to him as he staggered towards Daryl. Was it really true that they lost everything that once made them human beings? Of course some people back in the camp would argue that his brother had never been a human being in the first place. Other than feeling the loss of his military skills, the others would probably be glad that his brother was gone. But then they hadn't known about all times Merle had diverted their father's dubious attentions from his younger brother. Had always protected 'little Daryl' when he could. But then he left. Even if he had called him a 'nigger pussy' and 'a sissy boy' who was 'too soft and had better toughen up' while he was doing it. Had laughed at his love of flowers because he liked to smell their perfume, especially the roses. 'Ya wan' me make yer u' a bookay, hey, Darlena?' Had called him a 'Jew smartass' and 'a pansy bookworm'. But Merle had been right according to what happened when he left and what came after when the world went to shit. The weak did not usually survive.

Although most the group, of course had lost loved ones but they didn't understand that without Merle, Daryl was nothing, a no-one, had no-one and no common point of reference to understand the old world, let alone this new one. It wasn't just about blood.

Daryl began to back away, shoulders hunched and cringing from his brother's onslaught. His face contorted as he began to cry, quietly. Daryl never cried because crying had always brought more blows or more pain. When Merle finally lunged at him, he pushed him away once, twice but was easily able to evade his brother's clumsy movements. Then he steeled himself for what he had to do, for his brother's sake, he wouldn't want to be left like this. He got his hunting knife out, the long serrated blade glinting in the sun and stabbed his brother in the chest with it to pin him to the ground and subdue him. Merle gave out what sounded like a death- cry. Then Daryl began stabbing him in the head. Because you had to get the brain. Blood and brains spurted everywhere. Sobbing louder now, he stabbed him again and again in the eye-sockets and again with a savage ferocity and then he fell back on the grass.

He was still there when the others found him. They saw Merle's body on the ground that had obviously turned and spotted Daryl's crossbow lying discarded on the ground. Then they saw Daryl covered in blood and started to shout his name, fearing that he was dead or worse, turned. Daryl barely heard their shouts - they seemed to becoming from far away. Rick was the first to reach him and then the others retreated to a respectful distance, as if sensing something that they shouldn't witness. Even Carol stayed back while crying for Daryl but not for Merle. She would never cry for him. 'He's OK, Daryl's OK'. Rick shouted back to the others. Faintly from across the field, Daryl sensed rather than heard audible sighs of relief and was surprised. 'What happened?' Rick asked.

Daryl said brokenly. 'I had to kill Merle. Some bastard shot him and he turned. He was feedin' when I got here. ' He turned away from Rick as the relentless sobs began to rack his body again and buried his face in his hands, ashamed of his weakness. Unable to hold them back, he muttered 'Only sissies cry, be a fuckin' man!' Finally, he whispered almost inaudibly to himself, 'Ya want some more, ya fuckin' cry-baby?' and embarrassed, he started to get up and leave. But then Rick put his arms round him. He half-expected Daryl to push him away, like he usually did because he hadn't let Rick touch him since...well, it didn't matter no more. But Daryl didn't but he stiffened at first. Of course, Rick had noticed that Daryl usually didn't like to be touched unless he was the one initiating the physical contact, usually by punching someone. So he held him, rocking him back and forth, no different to what he did with Carl when his own boy woke in the night after one of his frequent nightmares. After one of those merciless dark dreams where his son sees himself kill his mother over and over.

He didn't care if the others saw, there was no embarrassment. But they moved away and started doing other things, as if they sensed that by watching they were intruding on Daryl's grief. In any case, they probably didn't want to see their strongest man so vulnerable. Because maybe if he could break, they all could.

Besides, Rick had come to see Daryl in a different light since others told him that he had been mainly responsible for finding milk for Judith – that without Daryl's determination, she wouldn't have survived. Ever since he had tried so hard to find Carol's daughter when others had been so quick to give up, in fact. That most of the others were too scared to leave their shelter for the starving, crying baby. Then, he'd seen him holding her, feeding her and crooning to the 'littl' ass-kicker'. That was after he had emerged from that mental fog of his that he had retreated to for a time after his wife's death. Daryl who cared about the young and helpless while her own father had gone off to Crazy Town and neglected her. In fact, they had all come to see him differently, not merely respecting his hunting and fighting skills.

After a while, Rick gently released Daryl who sniffed and wiped his eyes. 'Do we know who did it?' he asked the Hunter.

'That bastard in Woodbury, I guess. I recognised some of his men over there. He pointed to the corpses. I'm going to kill him and all of his men.' Daryl vowed furiously. 'I know nobody else is going to miss Merle. He wasn't much liked round here especially even before he did what he did to Glenn and Maggie. But he told me he was going to make it up to them.'

'That's not true….Daryl…'

'Shut up, don't lie to me! No-body else is going to be sorry that he's gone!' He angrily retorted.

'Maybe not but they care about you. I care about you.'

The younger man shook his head. ' I know you do. But they don't. They just want me around because they think I'd be better at keeping them alive. I had to kill my own brother.'

'I feel for you but there isn't hardly anyone who hasn't lost someone or had to kill a loved one. Carol cares about you. Judith loves you. She knows somehow that you saved her when I wasn't … around.'

Daryl's face brightens at the mention of the bright, bubbly baby.

'We're your family now.' Rick said simply. 'And we're going to go after the Governor together.'


	9. Merle's Story (Full Merle POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is a POV from Merle's perspective as requested. I hope that it offers more insight into his character and the brothers' relationship because I can't believe that he's really gone and left Daryl alone. And I believe that he has a lot to say that they can't show in the TV series and now he never will.
> 
> Set after Chapter 2 - I know, I've played around with the sequence of events, hope that it's not too confusing.
> 
> Warning: contains harrowing sexual and physical abuse – please don't read if it will trigger. After this it will get happier, promise.
> 
>  
> 
> By the way, any racist language or views belong to the character, not the writer.

Chapter 9 Merle's Story

Hi. This is a POV from Merle's perspective as requested. I hope that it offers more insight into his character and the brothers' relationship because I can't believe that he's really gone and left Daryl alone. And I believe that he has a lot to say that they can't show in the TV series and now he never will.

Set after Chapter 2 - I know, I've played around with the sequence of events, hope that it's not too confusing.

Warning: contains harrowing sexual and physical abuse – please don't read if it will trigger. After this it will get happier, promise.

By the way, any racist language or views belong to the character, not the writer.

Merle reluctantly followed his brother back to camp. Who were these people anyway? Officer Dick Friendly who apparently was the leader but that didn't mean Merle had to bow and scrape to him neither. And that little mousy old bitch Carol who was always crying, and worse still, seemed to have the hots for his brother and couldn't keep her hands off him. It had made him feel sick to see them together and he'd felt that old familiar stab of jealousy whenever other people tried to get close to his brother. They weren't their people. Boys like Merle and Daryl didn't have people. These soft pricks would always look down on people like him and Daryl, he would never be their equal in their eyes, didn't his brother realise? Called them red-neck trash, meth-head scum behind their backs just 'cos they'd had better starts in life with half-decent parents and had finished high-school. But then, they didn't know what they'd gone through. Especially Daryl who'd got it worse. Far worse. They'd just judge them on their clothes and accent, the way they ate, even their vocabulary. You'd think the old social labels and class snobbery would be kind of irrelevant now, with precious few living people left. But Merle knew that people would always cling to their old prejudices and stereotypes. It was just human nature.

Poor, little naïve Daryl didn't realise they only tolerated him because he could fight and hunt food for them. Rick and Shane had treated him like their lackey, when they said 'Jump!', Daryl had said 'How high?'. Had he forgotten that they had handcuffed his brother to a roof-top and left him for the Walkers and caused the loss of his hand? Just because he'd had words with that fat nigger, T-Dog. Why would any sane white person want to protect a nigger? He wasn't going to shoot him anyways – was just bluffing. How could Daryl put them first before his own brother after that? What was Daryl hanging around with these people anyway? He didn't need them to survive, they needed him. And what was worse, they would only ever tolerate Merle because Daryl would insist on it. They needed no people but themselves, like it had always been when they were kids, trying to survive their father. What hurt him the most was that Daryl had accused him of abandoning him but it wasn't like that. Never had imagined in a million of years that he would ever have whipped him or the depths of depravity that the sick bastard would sink to. Should've known better – that when the worthless piece of shit – why are you still here? Merle was gone, Daryl would be his replacement. True, he hadn't thought much about Daryl during the years he was away, hadn't even left so much as a forwarding address. But then most of the time he couldn't come back anyway – he'd been serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, in between he'd been in prison for burglary and drugs. Naturally, he'd wanted to put as much distance between him and that house and its memories – hell, he'd nearly killed his Daddy – thought he had before he left. But before the plague, he'd never actually killed anyone before and you couldn't call those ugly fucks walking out there people.

On some level, he knew that he had gone too far with the snivelling Chink kid, once he'd started, he couldn't stop especially when the little slanty-eyed prick refused to back down and tell him where Daryl was. Guess there was more of his Daddy in him than he realised. All he'd cared about was finding his brother and he hadn't cared what he had to do to find him. And he'd wanted to make those bastards who'd left him to die pay and then he'd suddenly had two of them in his clutches. But the kid was tougher than he'd looked because he'd killed the Walker Merle set on him, even when tied to the chair. Merle guessed the group wouldn't forgive him for that when the little Gook started whining to them about it.

Truth was, he would have done anything to be reunited with his brother but even he'd been shocked when the Governor pushed Maggie, half-naked and crying into the room. Had wondered what the hell had been going on in the other room while he was beating the shit out of her boyfriend. But he'd made sure that it didn't show on his face – to someone like the Governor this would have been an unforgivable sign of weakness.

Then him and Daryl had had that oh-so- heart-warming heart-to-heart in the forest. That's when Merle had found out that the only thing in this world (such as it now was) that could ever make him cry was the thought of Daddy's filthy hands all over his little brother. And another was the sight of Daryl's baby smooth skin now rough with scars and old raised welts from Daddy's belt and burns from his cigarettes.

Like Merle's skin.

Ugly. Damaged. Permanent.

He'd thought that he'd lost the ability to – he hadn't since he was eight years old, that's when Daryl was born. Before Daryl, Daddy used to love Merle. But after Daryl was born, Daddy changed, started drinking more and that's when he became the Useless Sack of Shit. Merle had taken the beatings, the whippings and the cigarettes put out on his bare skin without so much as a whimper because crying always led to more punishment. Had even deliberately provoked their father to make sure that he wouldn't hurt Daryl or their mother by playing up to his role as the black sheep of the family. Merle who had even amputated his own hand and cauterised the wound in order to survive while barely registering the pain; had finally wept when Daryl told him the sick things their Daddy had done to him. Then he'd taken him into his arms although they had never been particularly touchy-feely with each other. Except of course, when Daryl was very small and Mama and Daddy were fighting their drunken fights. And the yells and the screams would scare him. Especially when their father moved onto their Mama. Then he would climb, trembling, far too skinny, into his older brother's bed for Merle to hold him all night. 'Cos the kid was always fuckin' tremblin' - and never ate enough- was too fragile to live in their world.

And 13 year-old Merle would be irritated and hiss at his five-year old kid brother, 'What the fuck is wrong with ya now? Stop being such a little cry-baby!' Because he needed to toughen Daryl up. For his own good. Nevertheless, he always relented and let him into his bed. Always put one arm round him and pulled him against his chest so that Daryl could listen to his heartbeat because he knew that always soothed him. 'Merle ain't gonna let anyone hurt ya. Ever. Especially not him.' He whispered vehemently and hugged him closer to him protectively. 'Just like I promised Mama. To keep ya safe.' But there was another crash and Daryl flinched when their mother screamed in pain as their father screamed drunken obscenities at her. Then he whimpered. 'Fuckin' littl' sissy.' Merle snarled at him, but nevertheless, he would smooth back Daryl's hair. 'Ssh. Stop being such a pussy. They'll stop soon.' He would comfort him. Until his younger brother was calm enough to fall asleep when the noises next door stopped as their parents eventually passed out. And although Merle had teased him for being a scared little girl, protested reluctance at this troublesome burden of a little brother, he had secretly enjoyed the way Daryl needed him. Was never like that with anyone else - only Daryl and his big, blue trusting eyes could bring these feelings out of him - emotions that he never thought he had inside him in the first place.

Like he'd fuckin' kill anyone who hurt Daryl.

Kill anyone who touched him.

Was this what it felt like to be a big brother?

Because sure as hell, nobody else gave a flying fuck if he lived or died.

No-one else looked up to him like he was the god of their world who saved him from all its monsters.

But luckily it looked like Baby Brother had toughened up some since those good ole days and now he didn't take no shit from no-one. And when the sick fuck had finally pushed him too far – even meek and mild Daryl had finally snapped and fought back. Killed the evil bastard at the tender age of 12, not even a teenager! Planned it and lied to the police and got away with it! Alone, with no help from anyone! Never told another adult what his Daddy was doing to him. It probably wouldn't have done any good anyway, not where they were from. Merle couldn't help but be proud of him and as far as he could see, Daryl didn't regret it, didn't feel guilty. Why should he? It was no different from killing someone who is shooting at you, especially these days, you did what you had to survive. Or from killing those decaying dumb fucks out there who were always trying to eat you alive. Merle only regretted that he hadn't killed the asshole first and spared Daryl that.

Spared him everything.

He knew that he had mercilessly teased Daryl, called him 'Littl' Darlena', 'Sissy-boy' or ' Pansy Flower-Lover' among other names but it had been for his own good. You didn't get by in their neighbourhood acting like a pussy. At least he'd never physically hurt him, not like Daddy punished Merle all the time. And yeah, maybe he had been a little jealous of Daryl - still innocent, untouched - no scars on his back, thanks to Merle. Of his uncanny ability to draw others to him while no-one wanted to be around him. Except other junkie losers like him that he knew would turn on him in a heartbeat to save their own worthless hides or to score. More like mutually convenient alliances in fact. And then there was Daryl, smiling sweetly despite all the shit he'd seen. Still believing in life, that one day it would smile and reward him rather than spit him out on the scrapheap which was inevitable when you were born a Dixon.

But Merle would have given anything to keep him that way. To protect him like he had promised Mama.

He had failed.

Little sweet Daryl who had once felt joy at the first rose of the summer – what the Indians and Mama had always called the Cherokee Rose. And Merle had laughed at him for it. Little innocent blue-eyed Daryl, whose big blue eyes would have filled with tears and terror. But he wouldn't have been able to spill them because with tears always came more pain – the hurting wouldn't stop. Merle knew this from bitter experience. Daryl wouldn't have even been allowed that one comfort. Their father had never done that to him but he could imagine it – the stink of their father's sour whiskey breath and the sweat of his unwashed body crushing little Daryl's so that he could barely breathe. The pain, the terror, the humiliation and the disgust of it. Incest. Innocence savagely ripped away. The sick fuck had even blamed little Daryl - for his perversion - told him that it was his fault because he was 'a bad boy' as if it were some kind of sick punishment. Given him a deep sense of shame for life – would he ever get over it? Shit – he had seen Daddy occasionally give Daryl a slap or a kick in the shins but he never thought he would have really hurt him. Of course Merle had seen sex offenders, especially those who had targeted children in prison being tortured and getting some of their own medicine. Often with the screws turning a blind eye. Hell – sometimes they even helped to arrange it all. And he'd stayed out of it but now he understood the rage.

And that stupid bitch of a mother – she had never done anything for them, always pretending to be ill so that she could opt out of living a life with their father. But the boys couldn't opt out. Little naïve Daryl had never seemed to realise that his mother was sick but her sickness was alcoholism and that she had never given a flying fuck about either of them. But Little Daryl needed to believe in their mother. He had believed the bull about the medicine. She knew what her husband was doing to Merle but as long as she had her wine and her Virginia Slims and he left her alone, she didn't care. 'Medicinal flask!' He'd scoffed. He knew what was in there – the cheapest rat's piss wine from the local store while Daddy splashed out on expensive whiskey. That's why there was hardly ever any food in the house. But Daddy had beaten her, occasionally severely enough to end up in hospital – perhaps he was being too harsh on her. She had been a victim of their father too.

Maybe the drinking was the only way she could escape from the reality of living with their father. Merle had hated her as well for her weakness – couldn't say that he was particularly sad when she passed out and died in the fire (it's not like she'd ever made much difference to their lives – a bit like a familiar piece of furniture that was always there). He hadn't even bothered to come back for her funeral although he could have got leave easily. But it must have been some kind of protective instinct that had made him beat that bastard within an inch of his life for touching her that last time before he left and thought that he had taught the old bastard a lesson. To leave both of them alone. That's when he had gotten big and strong enough to fight back. Then he had just left, left Daryl in that hell with that Monster. But he didn't know, he didn't know. If he had finished the sick asshole off at the time, he could have saved Daryl. He would have gone to prison for murder too, gladly, if it meant that the twisted fuck hadn't done those sick things to his baby brother. His brother had toughened up over the years, was tough but still he had an air of fragility about him sometimes although Walkers never phased him.

They didn't need these other people, it was enough just them, alone. And they'd been separated long enough. He'd have to work hard at making Daryl see that – get him alone and away from them.


	10. Daryl saves Beth and she's grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl saves Beth and she's grateful. 
> 
> He also shows his badass side when he tortures Randall.
> 
> A little light romance between Daryl and Beth  
> (I've changed the time line from the series for my own purposes)

It started after Daryl saved Maggie and Beth from Randall's crew – the little bastard denied that he was involved, that he wasn't going to join in when he'd come back. But he obviously was, just had been on watch or scouting for potential enemies. He'd been coming back to join in the party with the two captured women. Daryl had seen it in his eyes then – the excitement despite his tearful protests when he was interrogating him. Or rather torturing him and beating the shit out of him. His youth hadn't saved him from Daryl's vengeance neither even though he only looked 20 at the most. But his eyes were old and his silvered tongue didn't work on Daryl.Because his keen eagle's eyes always saw through everybody's bullshit. Saw the truth behind his wide, apparently innocent eyes. Not that they would help him with Daryl who hadn't believed his lies – saw that he had done it many times before. Maybe he hadn't been like that before those people found him but he had become like that. Yeah, the Hunter thought, a good boy from a good family turned bad.

His choice.

Had allowed himself to be turned in the free- for- all that was now the Post-Apocalyptic World. Some people lost themselves completely or found themselves being what they never could have dreamt of with more freedom. They revelled in their new-found power and forgot that they were human beings.

In any case, Daryl needed to vent his rage at what happened to his brother. He couldn't get at the Governor right now but he needed someone to pay. And this little rapist who looked like a harmless, well-brought up college boy was as good an excuse as any. But Daryl saw Maggie and pretty Beth, hands tied, Beth's blue eyes, a mere shade darker than his, filled with tears and terror as the men loomed over her and her sister. Leering at them like they were such pieces of meat and making dirty jokes. Laughing about all the things they were going to do them. Maggie was whispering to her, trying to comfort her but Daryl couldn't hear what she was saying. Two of the men – a greasy, skinny blonde haired man and a short, dark haired man were already unzipping their trousers when Daryl just arrived in the nick of time. Luckily something had made him come to this area of the woods – the spoor of a buck he had spotted. Then he'd heard the men laughing and seen the campfire with the two women lying on the ground. Before they could get started and take turns. The blonde man was saying 'Hey, I want the young one first, can you take the other one?' And the girls began to scream and struggle when Daryl's crossbow pierced his throat and it spurted a small fountain of blood. He dropped his trousers to instinctively reach for his neck with both hands but he couldn't stem the flow. Then he fell down to the ground with his trousers tangled around his ankles. Way to go, asshole! Daryl chuckled humourlessly to himself. And they hadn't known what had hit them like a bolt out of the blue. A crossbolt actually from Daryl's crossbow. Next to die before he could even react in shock was the dark-haired man who fell with a one through his eye. Hewouldn't be coming back a Walker. Daryl was pleased with that one.

That just left three of the bastards who were made slow with all the beer they'd consumed. To build up their courage. Not that it would have mattered – Daryl was more than a match for all of them drunk or sober. The Hunter dispatched the nearest to him by slitting his throat, ear to ear with his hunting dagger before he even had time to react. But the remaining two had gathered enough wits about them by this time to try to tackle him but he was ready for them. He easily overpowered the first man who was lumbering clumsily towards him and wrestled him to the ground. Without looking back but sensing the other man coming up behind him, he kicked him away with his free foot, to buy himself some time. Then he stabbed the other in the eye – just like he'd done to Merle but Merle had been already dead and hadn't felt the pain (he hoped). But this bastard did – he screamed and had some kind of fit, making his whole body shake. Daryl just had time to stab him in the other eye through the brain – to make sure that he was down before he rolled away from the attack of the last man who was trying to punch him to the ground. He got up quickly, evading the man's clumsy blows because his reactions were far quicker and he was sober and got in to rapid right hooks that undercut the man's jaw. Then he kicked his legs from under him. He fell down and Daryl stabbed him viciously in the heart 3 times, pinning him to the ground. The bastard screamed in agony but then suddenly went still. They would have to deal with the ones who might come back, make sure they didn't. After Daryl had untied them and checked them to see they were unhurt, Maggie insisted on carrying out this task herself with a savage ferocity. She was only sorry that they already dead, she wanted to kill them herself. Painfully.

This image of Maggie and her sister but in particular her younger sister, trussed up with her pretty blond hair messed up and the terror he'd seen in her eyes fuelled Daryl's rage again against the bound prisoner. With his friends leering at her, their eyes crawling greedily all over her body and this prisoner in front of them who had belonged to them. So he swung back his fist as far back as it would go and slammed it again and again into the prisoner who screamed and groaned with the blood streaming down his face. Into his eyes so that he could barely see. Couldn't see where the next blow was coming from, adding to his terror and he begged for mercy. But it did him no good. But Daryl did change tack by brutally ripping off Herschell's bandage from the wound on Randall's leg. Then took out his hunter's knife and savagely stabbed the wound with it, 3 or 4 times, opening it up again when it had just started to scab over. And the blood gushed out and made a small puddle on the floor. Randall screamed in agony, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. 'Fuck you, fuck you, why are you doing this?' He sobbed. 'I'm innocent. I never touched no girls.'

'Yeah, right.' Daryl scoffed. 'Tell me about your group. How many?' And he took the point of the blade and just pressed it lightly but threateningly into Randall's wound again. Randall tried to buck and jerk his leg away but Daryl just pressed harder.

A warning.

'I said how many?' He snarled viciously, pushing him. And Randall began to stammer…'OK, there's about 20 of us... (Daryl pushed the blade in deeper, slowly) and he yelped and his voice began to rise in panic, ' No, I mean…about 30 of us.' He finally admitted and then trying to get Daryl's trust, 'There was this other time we found a father and his two teenage daughters, you know real young and real cute…' Incredibly, despite his pain and fear, Randall's eyes got a faraway look at this point and he unconsciously flicked his tongue between his lips. Like a snake, Daryl thought as his eyes narrowed in rage. 'And these guys…they ….um… (Daryl pressed the blade point deeper more viciously into his wound at this point and Randall screamed and tried to jerk his leg away again but this only made it worse) well.. well.. they did it in front of the father, made him w…watch, you know and they didn't even kill'em afterwards.' He stammered.

'But not you.' Daryl sneered. 'You just like to watch, right?' And he removed the knife-point from

Randall's wound. The boy, misunderstanding, nodded eagerly, hesitantly hopeful. 'You gotta believe me, I ain't like that.' He sobbed. 'I ain't like that.'

'Rape!' Daryl roared in rage. 'Raping teenage girls! Yeah, you are. Now I'm really gonna fuck you up.'

'Please.' Randall groaned.

And Daryl did and no-one came to stop him, not even Rick. 'Everyone has a choice.' He told Randall coldly before he really got going.

Afterwards, he met Dale outside the storeroom which they were using to contain the prisoner and brushed past his questioning look, staring down at Daryl's dripping red hands, slick with Randall's blood and flesh. He'd been listening outside the door towards the end before Randall finally passed out.

'What did you do to him? He's just a kid for God's sake.' He accused horrified. Staring at Daryl's bloody hands.

God, Daryl thought. Sometimes Dale just wanted to be too human to people who weren't even human. Would he feel the same way if Randall had attacked his daughter? 'Maybe he used to be but ain't anymore.' He replied defensively. 'Ain't been one for a long time. And I didn't do nothing to him that he didn't deserve. Do you know what he and his buddies were going to do to Beth and Maggie? And there's 30 of them out there with more ammo. As well as Woodbury. We're in som' serious shit. I need to go and tell Rick.'

'Maybe that's true. But you're a decent man.' Dale had told him. 'This ain't you, torturing people.'

Daryl drew back, surprised. A lot of the people in the group dismissed Dale because he was older and couldn't fight so well and hung around Andrea - the traitor. But he could see people, just like Daryl always could. Beyond the voice and the eyes and the words and their actions – really see them, see what they didn't always want you to see. And he'd always sought Daryl out and talked to him in the early days – when Daryl had been almost a shunned outsider. Mainly because of Merle, guilt by association. Had talked to him like he was a decent human being – one of them. Hadn't cared what the others thought – well Merle hadn't exactly helped them warm to him. The man's contribution to the group – his skills of perception and insight went unappreciated by most people except for Rick when he advised the leader. And Rick had listened to him. Daryl also remembered that Dale seemed to be the only other person in the group to see through Shane apart from him. Later, Daryl would be genuinely sorry when he had to put Dale out of his misery – the first time he'd taken over from Rick and done what he couldn't do. Helped him out.

'Sorry, brother.' He would say when he saw the permission in Dale's agony-filled eyes. Before he put him out of his misery. Because he knew that he would miss him afterwards.

Daryl realised that there was his Daddy and Merle in him who lived for and thrived on violence but he himself was different. He wasn't scared to use it when necessary but he didn't revel in it. Merle had laughed at him for that – called him Sweet Daryl. Well - normally that was. But this little shit Randall was an exception. For what he had been going to do to Beth.

And Beth was so relieved and grateful when Daryl untied them and checked that they were unhurt that she hugged him. He'd flinched at first but then hugged her back cautiously – after all he could see that she was shaking and her eyes were filled with unshed tears. That she needed the comfort after the ordeal they'd been through. And Daryl didn't miss the sharp look that Maggie gave her younger sister before he let her go. She also thanked Daryl but knew better than to try to touch him and they made their way back to the prison.

Maggie and Beth retold the story to the others who looked at Daryl with new respect. Herschell had shaken his hand and said that if he needed anything medical to just let him know. That he would always be grateful to him for saving his daughters. And Beth started looking at him differently, too with some other emotion shining in her eyes that he didn't recognise. For example, her blue eyes would light up whenever she saw him. And then it seemed like everywhere he turned she was there, at his elbow. That often when he came back from hunting she was waiting for him with a bowl of squirrel stew ready for him in her hands. Like she knew when he would come back. Although she never touched him again, it seemed like she had become his shadow. A part of him. He knew that he would normally feel threatened by this but found himself actually quite liking it and even expecting to find her there waiting for him when he came back from hunting or when they chatted over feeding and putting Judith to bed. Even started looking forward to these moments with her. They'd always been polite to one another – said 'Hi' in the corridors but there'd been a distance between them – she was 20 years younger than him for God's sake. Why did a pretty 17 year-old girl want to hang out with an old man like him? Not that she had much choice of playmates. There was Carl of course, he thought sarcastically. Although Daryl knew he didn't look his age, more like early thirties than nearly 40 unlike his brother Merle who looked at least 10 years older than his age. But then Merle had fought in wars and been in prison and hadn't been adverse to using drugs like crystal meth. Daryl on the other hand, had never felt the need to use drugs apart from the odd spliff or cigarette although he liked his liquor, especially his beer. When he could get it. And he'd always tried to look after his body – working out, keeping in shape.

The growing closeness between the two didn't escape the group's notice. Especially Carol who called Beth over when she was doing the laundry alone in the river. Away from the ears and eyes of the others.

'Hi Beth, can I speak to you for a moment?'

'Sure. What is it?'

'It's …um…about Daryl.'

'Uh…OK.' Beth said reluctantly, feeling a little embarrassed. Blushing a little.

'Now, I know that you two are getting close but I'm telling you to leave him alone.'

'Why?' Beth said guilelessly. 'We're just friends.'

'You don't have any …any other feelings for him?'

'Why? Just because you do?' Beth retorted.

Carol felt a sharp pain in her chest, where her heart was because the girl had hit the nail on the head. Because he didn't seem to feel the same way although God knows, she'd given him plenty of hints. Flirted with him numerous times but he just didn't seem to get it. And despite all the painful secrets they'd shared it seemed that it would have to be enough for her that they were just friends. But every time she wanted to spend time with him or catch up, Beth seemed to be there. The girl had even taken over his meals – making sure that he was eating enough. And Carol felt like she was intruding and backed off. But she missed her friend. And anyway, how could a dowdy woman approaching middle-age compete with a pretty, sassy 17 year-old with her whole life ahead of her?

'Look, Beth. I'm a lot older than you.'

'Yeah, you are.' The girl replied rudely.

'I mean…' Carol continued, ignoring her remark, 'He's not for you. Besides being too old, he's not like other men.'

'You mean you think he's gonna hurt me?' Beth asked fearfully. Everyone knew how he had nearly beaten and tortured Randall brutally to death. Because of what he and his people were going to do to her and Maggie.

'No, not that.' (Carol didn't mention that she thought Beth might hurt him.)

'Yeah, well it's not like I have a lot of choice around here. And with the whole End of the World Thing and the Governor who might come to wipe us out any day, I think I'll take my chances.' And with that she tossed her blonde mane and left Carol by the riverside.

Carol shook her head in frustration and thought Silly girl, didn't she know that she was playing with fire? She dreaded the outcome, felt that it couldn't be good. She on the other hand understood Daryl. How to handle him. What he needed. Anyway, how would Herschell feel? What would Rick and others think about Daryl, nearly 40 and a 17 year old? Barely legal.Or didn't the old rules matter anymore?

But Beth stormed back to camp, her mind made up by Carol's interference. Been reminded of how short life was – especially now. She'd had enough of waiting, she would make her move tonight.

They'd just finished putting Judith to bed with Daryl feeding her and burping her and Beth singing the soft lullaby that never failed to settle her down to sleep. Daryl was feeling relaxed, like he always felt after spending time with the baby but tired. Beth's sweet singing voice also had a similar effect.

'Right. I'm going to my crib. I'm whacked. See you tomorrow.' He said standing up, after they'd laid her down, yawning and stretching.

'OK. Night.' She replied. 'Sleep well.'

'You too.' He nodded at her.

But 30 minutes later she was at his open cell door (he could never close the bolted door, it made him feel even more trapped) in a flimsy white peignoir that she'd found in one of the houses on a run. He could almost see everything, through the thin fabric. Including the swell of her hips, the line of her youthful curves – rounded yet slim and her high bust. Her flat belly although he tried not to look. She was just a kid for fuck's sake. Didn't she know how dangerous it was to come into a man's bedroom at night? Jus' lookin' for trouble.

'Shhh…' she said, her finger to her lip.

'What…what are you doing here?' He asked half angry, half sleepily. He'd just been dropping off and she'd never come to his cell at night before. And why was she dressed like that?

She crept up to him although they didn't have to worry about waking up the others –typically, he'd put as much distance as he could between them and him when he was sleeping, when he was vulnerable. So they were in the wing of the prison most far away from the others. Before that, he taken to sleeping in the crow's nest because he couldn't bear to be shut up in a cell, in a cage. But he'd felt too exposed there – not enough privacy. He didn't much like being in the prison but had to agree with Rick that it was the safest place now with not only the Walkers but the Governor on their backs.

She crept nearer to him on tiptoe, her blonde hair was flowing down her shoulders like a thick shawl. It had got long.

'Go away,' he muttered and turned his back to her, facing the wall and tried to go back to sleep.

'I'm scared.' She whispered to his back, still not touching him.

That got his attention. 'Why?' He mumbled. Still not turning around.

'I had …I had a nightmare about those men.' Her voice wavered but it was a lie but she knew that this would get a reaction out of him. 'That they were going to hurt me again.'

'No need to be scared.' He drawled, this time sounding slightly more awake. 'Ain't gonna let nothin' bad happen to you. You're safe with me.' And he reached round with one arm and dragged her onto the bed. And then he drew the blankets up and over them. And they just about fitted onto the narrow lowest prison bunk – neither of them were big people and everyone had lost weight since the outbreak. Stress, lack of food and more physical activity such as going on runs and fighting Walkers and other humans. Fighting other human beings who were even worse than the Biters. They after all, couldn't help what they were.

She lay there for a while, enjoying the comforting weight of his arm around her – making her feel safe. She'd got the man who hated to be touched (why was that? she wondered) to put his arm round her! But she wanted more than this – a lot more. She was in her prime and her hormones were raging through her body. And she wanted nothing more than to have his lean body under her or on top of her. His muscular legs wrapped around hers. In any case, she wanted him inside of her. God, she was so sick of waiting. Was it her age? Is that why he hadn't made a real move yet? Or was he just too much of a gentleman? She giggled at that. No-one in their right mind would ever call rough, unpolished Daryl a gentleman.

Because despite what everyone in the camp thought, especially her father and Maggie, she wasn't some innocent little girl. She knew that her father would have a problem with Daryl – he wasn't exactly the boyfriend he had envisaged for her. Luckily, he had seemed oblivious to their growing attraction like everyone else except her sister who suspected and didn't judge. The rest of the group thought their growing friendship strange but never guessed the real mutual attraction beneath it. Passed it off as just something that came of looking after Judith together. And while Maggie respected Daryl and was grateful to him for saving them, they weren't exactly close but she was letting her sister make her own choices. Besides, she was too occupied with her own romance with Glenn and was never in their room anyway and their father, being the old-fashioned southern gentleman type, would never dream of coming to their room at night. So her absence could go undetected. And anyway, both of them had had enough of their father's overprotective interference in their love-lives although they knew that he always meant well.

Despite the fact that she knew Daryl was way too old, she couldn't help her attraction to him. Couldn't forget how he had saved her and Maggie, how when she was with him she wasn't afraid of anything. Not of the Governor, not of Randall or the Walkers. How powerful and strong he was, even if he were a little rough and a redneck. If a little scary and unpredictable sometimes.

She whispered softly. 'Daryl? Are you awake?'

'No.' he replied and she laughed. Then he pulled her closer to him so that her head was cradled on his chest and she could hear his heartbeat slowing down as he finally fell asleep.

Oh, well she would have to leave it for tonight. He was obviously exhausted and she had to let him sleep.

She hoped that he would let it happen again.


	11. Chapter 11: Out of my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of my mind
> 
> This chapter contains PTSD, flashbacks, reference to domestic abuse, child sex abuse etc etc… Some insight into Carol and Ed's marriage, and Daryl and Merle's relationship. Also a supernatural element.

i.

Daryl knew about Ed because he'd found her after the last beating. Well, everyone in the camp knew anyway – it was hard to hide such secrets now that people didn't live in houses behind white-picket fences. Even this didn't deter Ed. Making sure that Sophia was safe and away from him first, playing with Carl under Lori's supervision, she'd gone to the woods. To escape, to recoup. She'd seen Lori's shock at her latest black eye and heard her call out Be careful – at least take a knife but everyone in the camp knew what her husband was like and she didn't say anything. But she knew that she would tell Rick. She'd run away, left her husband sleeping off his latest bender in their tent, during which he'd enjoyed giving her a good beating. For not having his favourite shirt dry in time. God knows where he got the booze from – he'd insisted on bringing the crates and the whiskey rather than bringing more food and water with them. But their booze supply had run out long ago. So, she'd gone to the woods to be alone with her dagger in case of any Walkers and bumped into Daryl, coming back from his hunt with a brace of squirrels on his back. God! She was sick of squirrel stew – she couldn't eat another bite! She'd lowered her gaze, praying he wouldn't notice her eye but of course he did. She'd tried to push past him but he had stopped her. Then, he'd reached out tentatively and touched her cheek but not where she was hurt, of course. The other one. So unusual for him to reach out and touch first. Usually he resisted when anyone tried to touch him. Seeing her black eye, his sky blue eyes had been filled full of rage – not at her but at the animal who had hurt her. He'd grabbed her arm next and she'd flinched because there was another of Ed's bruises blooming there. He'd immediately withdrawn his hand and mumbled an apology thinking it was something he did and she desperately wanted to tell him it wasn't. But she said nothing because she didn't have the energy. She was so beaten down by not only her husband but this life of constant threat of death hanging over them with no safe refuge in sight.

His eyes had a questioning look. 'Did he…...again?' he'd asked, uncharacteristically gentle for him. She'd nodded and his fists had clenched. 'I'll kill the son of a bitch! Likes to hit women? Fuck'im! I'm gonna fuck 'im up! See how he likes it!' he roared in his rage. She'd placed a restraining hand on his chest – his touching her first seemed to give her permission and accordingly, he didn't flinch or back away from her hand like usual. 'Sh…you'll bring the Walkers here.'

'Me and Merle'll teach 'im a lesson he'll never forget.' Daryl promised her, this time more quietly but with no less vehemence. As a memory assaulted him of when Merle walked out of the door for good, Mama's bleeding cut lip and their father lying motionless in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

'You can't. Please don't. You'll only make it worse for me….No.'

He lowered his eyes reluctantly. 'Whatever yer say. But I ain't happy about it. If he does it again or touches Sophia, I might not be able to stop myself.'

'I'm OK. I'm used to it.' She'd said as calmly as she could, trying to pacify him.

After that, Ed, made bolder by his ever-increasing daily drinking had even slapped her in public and split her lip bloody. Right in front of the other women when they were doing the laundry down by the river. Hr was an old-fashioned type who believed in women's work for women. Then Shane had seen the slap and heard him threaten Andrea and he'd given Ed the beating of his life by punching his face to a bloody pulp. Warned him against hitting Carol and Sophia and anyone else ever again. And Ed never had. Carol knew that Daryl would wish that it had been him when he heard but she hadn't let him. Besides, Shane had beaten her husband to an inch of his life but if it had been Daryl who had actually witnessed Ed hitting her instead he would have probably outright killed him and never looked back.

But a couple of weeks later, when Ed had more or less recovered from Shane's punishment and his bruises were yellowing, already half-cut at noon with a beer can in his hand had dug his own grave. Always the bully, he misinterpreted the sullen Hunter's silence for weakness and his growing friendship with his wife hadn't escaped him. 'Hey, you redneck piece of trash! Stay away from my wife.' He stupidly challenged him and grabbed Daryl's arm in passing. The Hunter merely looked down at the flabby white hand on arm and jerked his back, glaring at the other man in silence. Encouraged, Ed continued, 'Yeah, I told the ugly bitch to do the same if she don't wan' my fist in her face again. Cos' you's scum, just like yous brother.'

Daryl didn't respond to his bluster but his eyes narrowed with rage as he turned to confront the man who represented everything he hated about his father and men like him. Who had hurt Carol and Sophia. And without warning, Daryl viciously undercut Ed's jaw with his right fist and Ed staggered back, not even having time to react, he'd been drinking all morning after all and just grunted. Then the Dixon suckered him in his big gut and the larger man staggered backwards. Daryl didn't miss a beat and kicked him the face so that Carol's husband was finally on the ground, helpless. Ed screamed in pain and brought up his hands to his face, begging for mercy, having not even got in an attempted blow at the Hunter. But his pleading only seemed to enrage Daryl like it had Shane a couple of weeks before when he had beaten the man to a pulp. Then Daryl snarled, 'Thought you would have learned your lesson from Shane, asshole. Bastards like you fight like pussies.' And with that, he brought back his foot to give him a vicious kick, again and again and again, he couldn't stop. Ed could only roll instinctively to the side, trying to evade the kicks but it did him no good, his screams begging for mercy. There was a crack of a rib or two and by then, everyone nearby had stopped what they were doing after hearing the commotion and were standing around, cheering on Daryl. Making no move to stop it. Because most of them held a grudge against the man, his obnoxious behaviour, his selfishness and laziness had not endeared him to the group let alone for what he had done to his own family. And neither Carol nor Sophia was there to stop it. So, unmoved by Ed's pleas and his bleeding body, they cheered Daryl on.

But Daryl suddenly stopped himself because it seemed to him that he didn't see Ed on the ground but his father lying there, the time Merle had beaten him to an inch of his life. He no longer heard the crowd but Mama screaming at Merle to stop. But his brother wasn't there but Daryl was and Daryl was no little ten-year old anymore with no strength in his arms and fists. He was the adult Daryl but impossibly he was also Merle. Merle as he was then. So, he took out his hunting knife from its sheath and ignoring the man's terrified screams, raised it and was going to cut Daddy, stab his father, rip him to shreds and the crowd were screaming at him to 'Do it! Do it!' Not that he heard them. And he was going to save Mama. But before he could, a bigger and heavier male body bowled him over and pinned him to the ground. Instinctively, he yelled 'Get off me! Get the fuck off me!' He struggled in his rising panic and tried to buck the man off him but the other didn't let release him but squeezed his right wrist painfully. 'Drop it.' Shane said calmly and authoritatively in the same tone Rick used.

ii.

And Daryl stubbornly ignored the pain but then Shane applied more pressure in a typical trained cop restraint move, 'Drop it.' He commanded again in the same calm voice and it felt like his wrist would snap so he finally let it go. He stopped struggling as he realised where he was and what he'd been about to do – he'd slipped back into the past again. With Mama and Daddy and Merle. Thought he had stopped doing that – he'd been about to murder the son-of- a- bitch. Again. 'Let me go,' he hissed venomously at Shane, wished it had at least been Rick who had subdued him instead, he hated Shane. And at least Rick wouldn't have enjoyed it. 'Let me go,' he whispered, hating the pleading whine that was creeping into his voice but unable to stop it as the familiar panic took over. Like it always did whenever someone touched him and didn't back off and of course, Shane didn't. Laughed instead. 'You're out of control, Dixon. Even crazier than your damn brother.' And put him in a chokehold although Daryl's rage had dissipated and he was no longer violent. But when he heard the jingle of metal as Shane began to reach for his belt in one hand, he started to frantically struggle again. But his captor twisted his arm and pushed it up behind his back while increasing the pressure on his throat. So Daryl stopped fighting but began to hyperventilate as he felt like he couldn't breathe. Like he was suffocating. But Rick came forward then and squatted down on his haunches in front of Daryl, looking up to him. 'Now, we all understand you attacking Ed, you're Carol's friend after all and he threatened her but we gotta to have rules. You were going to kill him. Now we've got to cuff you.'

'No, no, NO!' Daryl screamed and shook his head as he gasped for air and tears came into his eyes. And a half-choked sob escaped his burning throat. He hated his weakness but he couldn't do anything to stop it. He heard Glen shout 'Leave him alone, Shane!' and T-Dog, 'You're hurting him!' and Andrea, 'Ed deserved everything he got!'. Amongst others' anxious twitters 'What's wrong with him?', 'Why's he so scared?'. The shame, the humiliation of breaking down in front of the group. Rick noticed the onlookers gawping, ' Go!' he ordered them as they reluctantly drifted off. 'Show's over and we've all got jobs to do. Some of you help Ed – carry him to the medical trailor. And someone run and find Carol and tell her what's happened.' Dimly, Daryl heard but couldn't see Ed groaning in pain. It seemed like no-one cared what happened to him - they were all focusing on him, Daryl. And he felt their pity and concern attacking him in waves and he was ashamed that they had seen him in this state. But then he heard a familiar, welcome voice yelling angrily and footsteps pounding closer.

'Get your fuckin' hands off 'im! Don't fuckin' touch 'im!' And Merle, coming back from the woods, furiously barged into Shane and knocked him away from Daryl who staggered away a few steps, rubbing his throat and wrist. As he tried to get his breath back.

'Look. He's out of control, he needs locking up. He nearly killed Ed just now.' Rick got his own the cuffs out from his belt and walked towards Daryl.

'So? Bastard probably deserved it.' Merle retorted callously. 'Anyway, you didn't cuff Shane for doin' exact same thing.'

And Daryl started and backed away from Rick, apparently terrified. 'You telling me that big bad Daryl is scared of a pair of cuffs?' Shane sneered derisively. 'Thought you were tough, man.'

'Shut up Shane. Can't you see you're making him worse?' Rick reprimanded his friend without looking at him. Was concentrating on stalking Daryl instead.

'NO!' Daryl yelled. 'Don't…don't put those fuckin' things on me.' He pleaded as he started to shudder and whimper. He turned and started to run but Shane caught him. Held the now unresisting, trembling Daryl easily now. He shushed him but Daryl hissed a vicious 'Fuck you' at him in reply but didn't bother to struggle anymore. He knew that it was useless.

'Come on, son.' Dale spoke gently to him. 'Ain't nobody here gonna hurt ya.' Daryl hadn't noticed that he was there or when he had arrived.

'Just put these on and everyone's happy. Just until you calm down, I promise.' Shane said, this time more kindly. Merle motioned Rick aside and they walk away some distance. 'I'm telling you, don't put those cuffs on him. I'll handle him.'

'Wait a minute, Shane.' Rick called out and then turned back to Merle.

'Why? Why is he so terrified of a pair of cuffs? They won't hurt him.'

'I don't want to tell you here. It's kinda personal if you get my drift, Officer Friendly. Just trust me. Daryl will do anything you want, he'll even apologise to that useless sack of shit, bring him flowers, breakfast in bed, anything you want. I'll make sure of that.'

'OK…' Rick agreed reluctantly. 'Take him but make sure that he stays out of trouble. I'll be over to check on him later.'

iii.

Rick made his way across the field to the tent, to where he'd seen Merle half drag, half carry his brother after the fight. After he had snarled them out of the way – like a wolf protecting an injured pack member. Or a wild animal defending a fallen cub. Of course where he lived was a little far away from the group – the Dixons didn't play well with others and they kept themselves to themselves most of the time. He had to check on Daryl – it couldn't be Shane because Daryl seemed to half tolerate Rick at least but he hated Shane with a passion. How could any of them have predicted that he would have reacted like that? But he'd been out of control they'd tried to restrain him. Although they hadn't gone through with it, in the end they'd agreed to allow Merle to deal with his hyperventilating and whimpering brother.

As Rick drew nearer to Merle's tent, he heard the murmurs in a strangely melodic but pleasant language he didn't understand but it sounded like a chant to him, the same 3 or 4 words being repeated over. There was also the smell of some smoking herbs, a clean, fresh, piney smell. Intrigued and finding it not a little creepy, he undid the zip without calling out a warning and was taken back by the scene that greeted him.

But Daryl was calm now, curled up in a foetal position with his knees bent up to his chest, lying with his head in his older brother's lap. Merle was absentmindedly stroking his hair while repeating his strange mantra over and over again. Daryl's eyes were open but glassy, unseeing while he was apparently staring at the ground. His mouth drooling a thin thread of spittle onto the tent floor. He didn't react to Rick, didn't seem to be there, in some kind of trance in fact. A plate of various, yet unidentifiable herbs was smoking gently, releasing a pleasant fragrant smell. Most of the smoke was escaping, curling up towards the hole in the tent's roof that Merle had presumably made. Because sleeping in closed tents during this savage Georgian summer, even at night, was still far too uncomfortable.

The older Dixon immediately stopped chanting when he saw Rick and nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been concentrating so hard that his normally keen hunting ears had failed to detect the ex-cop's approach. And unfortunately, Daryl's head fell out of his lap and fell on the ground. Again, Daryl didn't react even when his head banged painfully on the floor of Merle's tent.

'What the fuck are you doing? Now look what you've done!' Merle yelled, incredibly embarrassed, at Rick. 'This here is private! Ain't you people done enough!' And it was true, Rick felt like he had walked in on his neighbours naked in bed together, had seen something so personal and intimate that he had no right to observe. Or some sacred ritual into some religion that he was not yet initiated in.

Rick ignored his angry outburst and urgently got straight to the point. 'What's wrong with him? Is he sick? And what weird language were you speaking just now?' The former Sheriff added with his eyebrow raised crouching in the entrance of the tent. 'A Satanic one, maybe?' He muttered under his breath because he wouldn't be surprised at anything with Merle.

Merle picked up Daryl's unresponsive head and placed it tenderly back in his lap and put one arm protectively around his brother, across his back. Before he glared aggressively at Rick. 'He's not sick, not how you ignorant aniyonega1 mean.

'What does that mean?' Rick asked but didn't wait for Merle's translation. 'Well, then, what's wrong with him? Is it shock? Is he going to snap out of it? Shall I fetch Herschell?' He asked urgently.

'Don't bother. He wouldn't understand and there's nothing he can do. None of you dumb fucks can. You just had to keep on pushing him, didn't you? Especially that asshole Shane.' Merle snarled accusingly. 'Yeah,' he nodded, 'He was always just lookin' for an excuse to put his hands all over my sweet littl' brother.' He finished with a low down dirty laugh.

Refusing to rise to Merle's obscene jibe, knowing it was stemming from anger, Rick tried to reason calmly, 'He was out of control, he attacked Ed, damn near killed 'im. '

'Yeah, and killing that fat, ugly, wife-beating piece of crap is bad how exactly?' Ed's lucky it wasn't me.'

'How could we know that he would react like that to a pair of cuffs? We were only going to restrain him until he calmed down.'

'Guess you didn't know his fuckin' Daddy cuffed him to the bed.' Merle retorted with angry sarcasm as his mouth twitched down at the corners and his eyes filled with unquenched rage and hatred. For the man he could never make pay. And his fists clenched at his sides. Enjoying Rick's shocked expression. But then he relaxed, slumped forward. 'See, - sick fuck didn't just use littl' Darlena as his whipping-boy.' With this revelation, he comfortingly smoothed back a stray lock from his brother's forehead that had fallen over one open and creepily staring, unseeing eye. And then pulled his younger brother's body closer to him. 'Yeah, poo' littl' Darlena got it worst.' He sighed. 'Why else do you think he's the way he is? Why he don't let no-one touch 'im, even me, hardly ever. Only way I get to is when he's like this.

Rick was sickened but didn't pry. Again, he felt that he was privy to secrets that he just didn't want to know. Besides, he thought Daryl wasn't even blinking and he just wanted to get out of there but it was his duty to stay and check on his condition. And he did care about the younger Dixon – Daryl had proved his worth to the group. And he'd found that cop habits died hard and anyway the others were anxious about him. Apparently beating Ed to an inch of his worthless life in defence of his friend Carol hadn't damaged his popularity none. Strange how quickly the reclusive, aggressive but less so than before redneck with poor social skills and even poorer personal hygiene habits had become so liked in the camp. Although feeding scared and hungry people probably had something to do with it.

Liked unlike the older Dixon but you couldn't have one without the other and Merle clearly loved his brother.

Rick was surprised that Merle was talking in front of Daryl like this, like he wasn't there, and motioned towards the comatose man with a warning gesture.

'I don't think we should be talking in front of him like this. He can hear us.' But what he really meant was I don't think he would appreciate you telling me what you just did.

'No, he can't, he's already gone.' Merle drawled the last word exaggeratedly.

'What do you mean gone?'

Merle laughed mockingly, enjoying Rick's confusion. Hell, he'd be having so much fun if he wasn't worried about getting Daryl back. And he liked having one over the ex-cop who always acted like he knew everything. Knew what was best for everyone including his brother. 'He's runnin' around there in the forest, probably scoutin' deer.' And he pointed outside.

'Gone where?' Rick was really confused now, felt an icy chill run down his spine as he looked down at Daryl's body right in front of him. 'You been smokin' too much crystal, again, Merle? You Dixons are out of your minds.'

'Zactly. Daryl is out of his mind. Gone where he always went when things got too fucked up at home. Me - I could never go anywhere – had to just stay and take it. For Daryl mostly. Baby Brother always was a lucky little bastard, had more of Momma in 'im. He tried to show me how to do it but I could never break free.'

Rick was about to disagree with this assessment that seemed to contradict what Merle had said earlier but decided to keep his mouth shut. He didn't understand what the hell the man was rambling on about and decided to ignore it.

'I've been trying to call him back for over an hour now but he doesn't want to come.' Merle frowned.

'Right.' Rick agreed, taking the hint and deciding he would leave them to it. But what would he tell the rest of the group? That Daryl was in shock? Comatose? In a hypnotic trance? Was outside his own body which was lying in his brother's arms and his soul or spirit or whatever was in the forest stalking deer? But Merle answered his question as Rick was getting up to leave, as if he'd read his mind. 'It's called Astral Projection, Officer Friendly. I'd tell you to look it up but things ain't exactly like they used to be, huh? Mama was half Cherokee and in her tribe there were quite a few Skin-Walkers. We can't do that but we can do other stuff. Why do you think he's so good at tracking and shit?'

Rick left, shaking his head, not knowing what to believe. But who's to say that it wasn't true in a world now where the dead came back to life? And he was surprised that such a determined racist, 'a white man' admitted to having Cherokee blood in him. Apparently spoke a Native American language. Seemed to be proud of it in fact. But then he'd kept it a secret until Rick had stumbled on it. These Dixon boys were full of surprises.

'Do whatever you have to do, just get him back.' Rick replied with quiet authority as he walked away shaking his head in disbelief and heard Merle resume his strange chanting behind him. 'Ed's going to be OK, by the way.' He added as an afterthought and heard Merle's scoffing bellows follow him.

He would tell the others to give Merle and his brother some space. And headspace. He didn't need any questions that he didn't have the answers to.

'Cos Dixon business was their business, no one else's.

1 Cherokee word for white people


	12. Chapter 12: Daryl and Women/Merle being a mean bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Merle being a mean bastard because I've shown him being caring and protective of Daryl but he wasn't always like that with him. Because Merle is caring and protective but he's also callous and cruel and he's all of these things to Daryl. And Daryl, for his part, has mixed feelings towards his older brother – there's a lot of anger there. But there's no doubt that there is a lot of love there too, on both sides beneath it all. All of this makes the brothers' relationship so complex and this is what makes it so fun to write! I've also filled in some details of the lost years of Daryl's youth like what happened to him after his Daddy died and how he is with women.

The nights they were drawing in and the weather was getting colder. Daryl shivered and pulled the thin woolen blanket over him and Beth. She rolled over, apparently in her sleep and put one leg across his and snuggled closer against his chest. But her eyes fluttered unseen by him. She'd never done anything like that before – they'd always slept together chastely like brother and sister forced to share a bed. Apart from his arm always being around her. And he felt himself stirring, down there, letting him know that he wasn't a sexless eunuch like Merle always called him. But she was just a little girl – didn't she know how dangerous it was to do what she kept on doing to him? Had she forgotten what Randall and his pals had nearly done to her? What could happen to little girls who played with grown men? Anyway, what would Rick say? What would Herschell do?

He should kick her out now before something bad happened but as if she had read his thoughts in her sleep, one slender arm snaked across his chest and he felt his nipples harden through his thin shirt. Shit – what was he going to do?

Did he even know what to do? With a woman, that was. Not that Merle hadn't forced him to watch enough hard-core porn with him when they were kids. To educate him.

He pushed her leg off him, pulled his arm from around her and turned over, facing the wall with his back to her. Felt her stir uncomfortably but she didn't seem to wake up. Making sure that no part of his body was touching her, he tried to distract himself from the growing need. He would try to sleep but found himself pulled back into the past which often happened when he was between awake and dreaming. When he had seen Merle for the first time in ten years, he had just turned 20 and Merle was eight years older. He'd gone to pick him up from the airport after his tour of duty in Iraq and Daryl had been shocked at how much Merle had aged. His body was bulkier with muscle now and his head was shaved but his face was lined – he looked at least a decade older. His eyes were redder and deader and his mouth often twisted in a cruel sneer that hadn't been there before. Daddy's sneer. And Merle was looking more and more like Daddy and Daryl couldn't help the shudder that ripped through him when he saw him coming through the airport gate. Oblivious as usual, Merle had hugged his younger brother and clapped him on the shoulder, obviously pleased to see him.

After that, they'd see each other on and off for years and somehow, sometimes living together, sometimes not, especially when Merle was shacked up with one of his skanks or on a drugs and alcohol binge. And Daryl had somehow kept his secrets and never shown Merle his back. And Merle had never asked about Daddy. He only asked if the Petersons had treated him OK and when Daryl said that they had, then Merle had breathed a sigh of relief.

After his Daddy was gone, Daryl should have been put in foster-care but a neighbouring family offered to take him in. Old acquaintances of his Mama's – a middle-aged farmer and his wife who hadn't been able to have children. They were decent people and they'd treated him fairly and they'd never ever hit him. Instead, they would punish him by grounding him or taking away his pocket-money. But they weren't very openly affectionate people and anyway, they'd noticed his dislike of being touched. But everyone in their village knew what his father had been like and they didn't ask questions. So they'd only told him that he could confide in them if he needed to but Daryl had never wanted to. He'd only wanted to forget about his old man and everything about him. And only when he had bad dreams and woke up screaming, often crying out for Merle, his foster-father would come into his room and sit on the edge of his bed. Careful though not to touch him and would try to calm him down. Would sometimes give him a glass of warm milk and cookies. Talk to him in soothing tones, asked him what he was dreaming about. But Daryl would never tell him. And Mr Peterson probably thought he was still grieving over his father and having nightmares about his death and missing his brother but he didn't know the truth.

So life got better for Daryl after his father's death.

The Petersons had fed and clothed him with the fostering money they got from the government, even allowed him to decorate his own room. Occasionally, Mrs Peterson would even use her own money to buy him treats like a new shirt or shoes. Or for a school trip. Something his own parents had never done, Merle had done his best whenever he had any spare cash that he'd earned or stolen. And Daryl marvelled at the fact that sometimes people who weren't family could treat you more humanely than your own parents.

When he turned 18, they regretfully told him that he had to move out as they were no longer getting fostering money from the government and they couldn't keep him. But he could take his time until he found a place they weren't going to just kick him out onto the street. Besides, he wanted his independence, was impatient to start living like an adult. So he found a nice 2 bedroom flat for him and Merle when he came home that he could afford on the outskirts of a nearby town. It was cheap enough. He also saved money on food by hunting from time to time and he was working full-time as a car mechanic. He'd never gone back to the same school but attended a different one nearer the Petersons in another village. Had made a fresh start there, where thankfully, people had never heard of the Dixons. And his adoptive parents gave him a cheque of a 500 dollars that they'd saved up over the years – money that they hadn't used from his fostering money as a parting gift. To help set himself up, they said. He'd thanked them and promised that he would write to them and visit from time to time.

Now he wondered if they'd survived the Apocalypse or if they were out there, mindlessly stumbling around. Looking for warm-blooded, living people like him and Beth to sink their teeth into.  
Like his brother was before Daryl put him down. He felt tears threatening at this memory but savagely pushed them along with his rising grief back down into his chest. However, this memory led to others about his dead brother.

That first night back with Merle they'd gone to the local bars and got loaded up, of course. His brother had dragged him into more than one bar-fights with his big, obnoxious mouth and hitting on local Hell Angels' girlfriends or making racist comments, forcing Daryl to fight alongside him. When Daryl would have preferred a quiet, relaxing drink with them keeping themselves to themselves. So they'd come home battered and bruised, Merle dragging along two drunk women he'd just picked up. The women were giggling and tottering on their high-heels, their short dresses in danger of riding up over their asses. They made their way to Daryl's new flat.

The brunette went over to Daryl, stroked his cheek as he flinched back. 'Is this your littl' brother, Merle? He sure is cute.'

'Leave 'im, alone. He's just a kid. You two are with me.' And Merle grabbed her and dragged her back to him, giggling and planted a sloppy, drunk kiss on her lips and she responded passionately. But her companion, the heavily made-up blonde got jealous 'Hey, Merle! I'm over here!' she yelled at him.

Daryl was tired and went straight to his room while the others went to his brother's. He could hear their moans and giggles and tried to block them out. But part of him was jealous at the sounds of their obvious pleasure. He hadn't wanted this and he could never understand Merle's appeal to the opposite sex. True, he had a good body but he was such a bad-mouthed, obnoxious, mean bastard who treated them like shit, like toys that just existed for his own amusement.

He was woken up by a load noise as someone opened his bedroom door. With a crash. And he saw a tall, broad man's shape in the dark doorway. Same height, broad and muscular like his father. He panicked, crazily thinking it was his Daddy come to his room again but then remembered that he was dead and Merle was staying with him. And Merle reached behind him and pushed one of the women into his room, the brunette who was naked and giggling. 'Get in there and don't come out until you've fucked 'im. And fuck 'im good.' He commanded her, slurring his words. He'd carried on drinking the hard stuff when they got back. And to Daryl, 'Present for you, littl' bro – to celebrate our happy reunion.' And he laughed dirtily as he closed the door.

The girl walked slowly, sexily swishing her hips side to side to Daryl's bed. 'Name's Tracy,' she said to him. 'Like what ya see?'

'Look like I could give a fuck what ya name is?' Daryl growled at her.

'Hey, baby. You a bad-boy like your brother? You fuck as good as he does, baby?' She licked her lips lasciviously with the tip of her tongue slowly. Tempting him. And Daryl heard his brother's growls and the other woman's moans start up again and heard the other bed's springs in the other room squeak rhythmically.

Daryl closed his eyes. He'd wanted his brother back so badly, had been looking forward to it so long but now he was here he wished him gone. Had had some fucked-up idealised image of his brother in his head and had forgotten the bad stuff. Forgotten that with Merle always came trouble. Forgotten that he was still furious with him for leaving him alone with their father without even a backwards glance. And now he was back in his life he was just fucking it up for him as usual. Because Daryl didn't want strangers in his flat – it was meant to be for just him and Merle.

She reached out, first to stroke his cheek and then to touch him between his legs under the sheet but he drew back, as if burned and grabbed her hand. 'Stop.' He told her.

'Why, baby?' She asked. And he saw her pale, too-thin body and all the meth sores covering it. Her brown teeth and the stink of her breath. The track marks in the creases of her elbows. Probably not much older than him but she looked old. And riddled with disease. He hadn't looked too closely at the women when they were walking back from the bar.

How could Merle fuck this? He'd probably get a STD. Probably even fuckin' AIDS.

'I don't fuck no skanky meth whores.' He spat in her face and pushed her hand away. On the other side of the wall, the sounds intensified as Merle and the woman approached their climax.

'Who you calling a skank?' She screamed and enraged, she raised her hand to slap him and he automatically flinched and drew back. Her eyes widened in surprise and she lowered her hand. 'Poor baby, I ain't gonna hit you.' And she laughed bitchily. 'Merle said you were a freak.' And Daryl grabbed her by the throat and threw her down on the bed. Looming over her, he said 'Get out. And take the other skank with you.' Then he released her and she got up shakily and left the room without a word.

Then he heard Merle incredulously roar from the other room 'What! He wouldn't?' and the women's contemptuous giggles. And finally his brother's braying bellows. And he felt the familiar shame come over him whenever it came to anything to do about sex. And the next day, of course Merle teased him, called him a eunuch, 'You fucked anyone ever, little brother?'. And Daryl had hunched his back and looked down on the ground. Merle didn't know the truth. 'You ever slipped your cock into a slippery cunt? Ooh, it feels so good….when she's moaning, when she wants you inside her.' And he laughed. 'Or you the other way, boy? You a dirty homo fag? Come on, you can tell big bro Merle.' He added mockingly, coaxingly. But Daryl had said nothing as Merle guffawed, he was already regretting letting him stay in his flat. Because a few days later, the money from his foster-parents had already been drunk or smoked up. He didn't want these women or Merle's drugs in his home, he didn't like the rubbish all over the floor –the empty beer cans, the take-away boxes and the cigarette butts. The dirty clothes strewn everywhere – Merle's and bras and panties. Daryl didn't like to see the dead cigarette ends in particular – they brought back bad memories. Just because his brother seemed determined to live like their parents had. In filth and squalor.

Daryl loved his brother but he hated him just as often as he loved him.


	13. Chapter 13: Out of my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a continuation, well actually a prequel of Chapter 11 Out of my mind as requested. Unfortunately, Merle isn’t around in this chapter but it explores Daryl’s psychic abilities and what triggers them – mainly when he feels under threat. Set during Chapter 1, Merle has already left and Mama has just died. Contains child physical abuse, please don’t read if it will trigger.
> 
> And by the way, the old man will appear again with a surprising revelation.

'Come here, son.' His father called kindly to him. Like a real Daddy. 'Why ya shakin'? Daddy ain't gonna hurt ya.' But Daryl gingerly fingered the most recent bruise fading along his jawline and looked for signs of redness in his father's eyes – that he always got when he was drinking or smoking or shooting up shit. But Daryl couldn't see any. Tried to gauge his mood – was he happy or looking to vent his anger on someone? But he'd been much happier since Roxie, the 18-year-old waitress moved in. Ostensibly to cook and clean after Mama's death (not that his mother had ever done much housework) but she often stayed overnight in his father's room. And Daddy had never had that glazed and contented look on his face in the morning with Mama. She never had any bruises or black eyes neither.

Staring at the large figure of his father apprehensively, Daryl hoped that maybe it would really be OK this time. 'Cos Daddy hadn't hit him for several days - maybe things were going to be like before Merle upped and left, had only spoken to him in that quiet, gentle voice and called him 'son'. Had touched him without hurting - maybe he'd changed. But still, Daryl couldn't trust his father. And out of habit, he tried to guess how far he could get to the door before Daddy caught him. Probably only three steps because of course, his father was blocking the living room door, his muscular bulk filling up the door frame. And anyway, running away would only make him angrier. But Daryl still didn't want to go to him and he couldn't stop his body trembling like it always did whenever he was in his father's presence.

'Come here.' Now there was a stern note of impatience in his father's voice that ten-year-old Daryl dare not disobey. He reluctantly went over to him but his Daddy only took his arm. Daryl flinched at his touch, even though it was gentle but didn't dare pull his arm away. 'You miss Mama, son?'

Daryl hunched his shoulders together and silently looked down at the floor. Safer to say nothing.

'Speak up, son.' His father pressed gently.

What was the right answer?

'Yeah.' His son answered in a small voice.

'Me too.' Said his father sadly and ruffled his hair but Daryl cringed away from his hand. His Daddy laughed and did it again.

'Because it's your fault she's fuckin' dead!' His father suddenly screamed without warning as his face turned from a mask of resigned sadness to a scarlet one of pure rage. And he slapped Daryl hard so that he fell onto the floor. Daryl gasped at the sharp sting but didn't cry, he knew better than that and after all it was only a slap, not a punch. Knew he'd have a red mark to go with his black-eye, no longer truly black but fading blue now after his last 'punishment'. Instinctively he curled up in a ball on the floor, his hands protecting his head as his body tensed, waiting for the first furious kick.

But none came. In a way, the slap was a relief because Daryl had found nice, fake Daddy even worse than angry Daddy. At least now he knew what to expect and could deal with it. There was no pretence, no hope, no mixed feelings hovering between tremulous love and hate.

Only fear and hate.

But hating himself more.

Cos' the not knowing was the worst. When the next blow was comin' and where it was comin' from.

Like now, waiting for the kicks that were going to rain down on him but none came. Instead his Daddy's voice, commanding him coldly, 'Get up.' Already undoing his belt. Letting Daryl know what was coming.

And Daryl began to whimper, couldn't help it and this earned him another slap, even harder than the first but miraculously, this time he didn't fall. 'Dixons don't fuckin' cry! Shut the fuck up, you littl' nigger pussy bitch!'

In his mind, he began to call Merle. Knowing it was useless because his brother had left for God- knows- where, was far too far away. Had left Daryl with this monster who now looked like the monster he was on the inside thanks to his older brother. Because his once handsome face was never right afterwards – one side of his mouth was always higher than the other because of permanent nerve damage. Even in his terror, Daryl thought of Two-Face in some old Batman movie and a felt savage thrill of triumph for him.

Daddy took off his belt tantalisingly slowly and dangled it in front of his youngest son's face. 'Take off your shirt.' He commanded him.

'N- n-no.' Daryl stammered. This earned him a punch with a closed fist this time. A new black eye to go with the fading one he already had.

'Ya saying no to me ya littl' fuck?' His father roared at him.

Merle. Daryl screamed in his mind. All he wanted was Merle even if he laughed at him for being a pussy. For not being able to protect himself from Daddy.

Probably would only laugh at him for whimpering and being a sissy.

For not taking his punishment like a Dixon like he always did.

But maybe he wouldn't.

'I made you, you worthless piece of shit and I own you. I can do anything I like with you. Cos' nobody round here gives a fuck about ya. You ain't even the dogshit they scrape off their shoes.' His father leered at him and when he laughed, Daryl felt a knife twist in his heart because it was Merle's laugh. 'And don't you forget that, boy!' His father roared. And roughly grabbed Daryl while he cringed and whimpered and tore his new shirt off him and threw it into the corner. 'Wouldn't want to rip that nice shirt Roxie bought for you, now would we?' He sneered sarcastically.

'Turn round and face the fuckin' wall.' He ordered and he pushed Daryl roughly against it.

Merle, please. You said you'd never let him hurt me. But he does! He really does!

The first crack and his back exploded into stinging fire. He screamed, he couldn't help it.

'This is for buying the rat's piss and smokes that killed her!' Felt the first rivulets of blood trickle down his back.

Crack.

'This for being a filthy littl' murderer!'

Pain, unbelievably, even worse this time. He arched his back in agony and screamed. More blood now.

Merle! He called again, trying to reach his brother's mind. Cos' Merle would never hurt him like this. Would never let their Daddy hurt him either if he was here.

But he was gone. Left Daryl alone to face the full force of their father's rage.

'Should'a been ya that died, ya worthless piece of shit.' His father snarled at him. 

Crack.

Scream.

He couldn't take it anymore. Felt like his whole back was burning agony. 'Merle,' he whimpered.

His father suddenly stopped. 'You want your brother, do you? Do you?' Because Daryl hadn't noticed that he'd spoken aloud. And he furiously turned his son round to face him as he cringed away. But at least he'd stopped whipping him. 'He ain't gonna save you. Cos' he fuckin' hates you.' His father sneered. 'Yeah.' He nodded, 'He told me he left because he was sick of your whingin' and whinin'. Always having to save ya worthless hide.'

And despite his pain and terror, Daryl shook his head as miraculously, his own outrage and hatred took over as he screamed back, 'That ain't true! He left because ya an evil, old fuck!'

Merle's words. Merle had called their father this enough times.

'The fuck you say to me?' His father screamed, enraged. Couldn't believe that little cowering, whimpering Daryl had spoken back to him like that. Sounded something like Merle would say. Probably was. Then he slapped Daryl so hard his head snapped back and hit the wall. For a moment, everything went black and he saw stars but then he dizzily, reluctantly came to as the back of his head began to throb.

No, he wasn't even lucky enough to pass out.

Of fuckin' course. Dixons never had no luck. Dixons was cursed.

And Daryl immediately regretted his words, now his father was really going to punish him, probably scar him for life. He started to tremble and whimper. 'Turn around!' his father yelled again and pushed him roughly to the wall. As Daryl flinched. But he wasn't going to beg. Not that bastard.

'Now I'm really gonna whip the livin' shit outta ya!' And his father did.

Crack…

Scream…

Merle, he says you hate me

Crack…

Scream…

That you left because of me

Crack….

Scream…

Says I killed Mama but I didn't, I didn't!

Crack….

Scream…

Why did you leave me?

Crack…

Scream…

He did it to you, too. And you still left me with him?

Crack…

Sob…

'You fuckin' cry, you littl' bitch and it's gonna be ten times worse!' And his father's yell was the last thing he heard clearly before he was gone.

But he felt the rivulets of blood turned into slow rivers flowing down his back. Then, he knew that he'd be scarred, would have his father's marks on him forever. No matter how far away from him he went or what he did. Would always hear those words 'I own you' when he saw them, when he ran his own fingers over them.

But he felt himself leaving as he slumped forward against the wall. Should have tried to leave earlier. Why did he stay and take it for so long?

Because he had killed Mama. It was all his fault. He'd bought the wine and Virginia Slims.

Deserved everything. The pain. The hatred.

Deserved to die.

'Cos he was nothing. A no-one. Would never be no-one.

Would always be nothing.

Yet, the pain began to recede and he felt himself rise. Felt light, like air – could move but was floating. To the ceiling.

Saw himself looking down on his body, slumped against the wall as if unconscious while his father whipped him bloody, bloodier. Couldn't even see the skin on his back – it was slick with blood. Could hear his father still screaming at him vaguely but blocked out the words so he couldn't hear them. Like turning down the volume control on the T.V.

Didn't want to. Would only be screaming hate anyways.

Didn't his father notice he wasn't there? That he didn't feel the crack of the belt anymore?

Probably thought he'd passed out, so why didn't he stop or check on him?

What if he whipped him to death? What if he had nothing to come back to?

What if he got stuck? And he trembled with icy fear.

Didn't matter. He just had to get out of there.

ii.

Daryl floated up to the ceiling where he watched himself and his father for a moment before he went out of the door. Went outside along the path, towards the forest. That place where he always felt safe.

Trawled the paths, heard the birds singing and the rustling of animals in the undergrowth.

Incredibly it was a nice day, blue sky, sun shinin', the world goin' on like none of that shit had ever happened to him.

Daddy was right, he was nothing.

But maybe he could forget it, at least for a little while.

Cos' here there was no pain, no hatred, no fear and most important of all, no fuckin' Daddy.

He went deeper into the forest where the trees were older, bigger and their wider branches shut out the sun. He liked the cool darkness, felt like he could hide, it felt safe here.

Made his way for how long? 2 hours? How fast was he going, anyway? And time was meaningless here. Daryl didn't know, didn't care.

Passed village after village when the trees opened out, saw people working, chatting, eating, kids like him playing but they didn't see him. It was fun watching them without them knowing it.

He felt like God must feel.

Until he came to a village he didn't recognise. He'd never been this far out before.

Passed an elderly Native American limping on the path leaning on a stick coming from a cottage who looked up as Daryl passed over him. He was wearing a traditional ribbon shirt and two long white plaits framed his lined face. Just a quick glance but looking directly into Daryl's eyes and the boy knew that he had seen him. Blue clashing with blue. But his expression held only mild curiosity, not shock or even surprise. But Daryl quickly broke eye contact and fled, even though there was no malice in those eyes because nobody had ever seen him before.

He was afraid of the old man.

But more afraid of his father. And he wondered if Daddy had finished with him by now. Dare he go back?

But then he felt that familiar pull, like he had strings attached to the back of his arms, his back, his legs and someone was softly reeling them – him, in.

Like he was someone's fuckin' puppet.

It was time to go, it should be safe. Couldn't come back unless it was. And he let himself be pulled back flying over the villages he'd passed, looking down on the people. Because coming back was always quicker. He had already reached the depths of the forest where the trees were oldest. Saw the herds of deer who failed to sense his presence, the bucks tossing their antlers. The squirrels too, scampering up and down the trunks and branches of trees. But he wasn't interested in them now.

Then when he finally came to the woods near his own house, he swooped through his own door.

Dreading what he would find. Dreading the pain he would soon feel but unable to stop it.

It was time.

And he was safe.

Because he saw with relief that Daddy was gone and his body was still slumped against the wall, his forehead pressing against it. Although now there were blood marks on the wall. His blood. And bloodstains on the floor. Daddy had just left him there, bleeding. And he was going to be scarred for life, he just knew it.

Like Merle.

And Daryl really didn't want to go back but he could only stay outside for so long. Took a deep breath and took the plunge.

Felt that familiar uncomfortable disorientation – like there were two of him fighting for dominance before one won before he came to. First thing to hit him was the pain of course, shocking although he was prepared for it. The stinging, fiery pain all over his back although thankfully muted now accompanied by his head throbbing dully. He let out a low sob because he could because his father wasn't around to hear and punish him again for it.

Felt his blood thick and sticky on his back, drying. Painfully, he tried to stand up but this only turned the pain on his back into fiery agony as he felt the cracks in his skin split and start bleeding again. Felt the blood trickle down his back, staining the back of his trousers probably.

What the hell did he look like? With his battered face too.

He looked like a boy who had been brutalised by his father.

What if the bleeding didn't stop? What if he bled to death?

'Fuck.' he sobbed and fighting the pain, grabbed his shirt where his father had flung it in the corner and staggered out of the room, gritting his teeth. He couldn't stay here. What if Daddy came back and killed him for leaving blood stains everywhere on the wall, on the floor? For not cleaning up the mess?

Just another excuse to punish him again.

Any excuse.

So he staggered out of the empty house, not even bothering to shut the door. They lived in a village where everyone knew everyone else and 'sides, the Dixons didn't have nothin' worth robbin'.

And he didn't have a key anyway.

But then he forgot – he needed his hunting knife and his crossbow if he was going to eat.

If he was going to survive out there.

So, painfully and far too slowly, he went back to retrieve them. His heart thudding and jumping at every noise that might be his Daddy coming back. And every step caused agony from his lacerated back but he gritted his teeth, tried to push back the pain as tears and sweat streamed into his eyes.

'Cos he was Dixon. And Dixons didn't cry.

He didn't stop to look in the mirror or wash the blood off because he sensed that hanging round was dangerous. Daddy could come back any minute. Besides he could bathe in the river.

'Fuck you.' He snarled but didn't know who he was talking to. His father or himself?

Or Merle?

Maybe to all of them.

He finally made it out of the house – would have to try and find somewhere to hide where Daddy couldn't find him. Lay low, recover. He looked around – didn't see anyone. Last thing he wanted was to meet one of the neighbours and answer their nosy questions. With his punishment and his shame on show for everybody to see. Although they would probably clean him up, put bandages on him but he didn't want that. Didn't want to see their looks of pity while still they did nothing. Even though they all knew about his father. Not even the police. Not when child and wife-beating was pretty much the norm in these parts – the staple of many competitive and boastful bar-room conversations.

This weren't Atlanta after all, just some backwater hick hill village out in the sticks.

Luckily, he managed to drag himself into the woods without meeting anyone on the way. Had a feeling it was dinner time and that people were at home cooking or eating. But the last thing he wanted to do was eat although his stomach growled hungrily.

Felt feverish, in fact.

Found a cool glade, hidden by trees and almost fell down. Luckily onto his stomach. Hopefully, no one would find him here – they couldn't see him from the path and he was hidden by the tree-trunks.

His vision was greying, beginning first with expanding dark wings at its edges as he felt the blood trickling gently down his back. But strangely, Daryl felt no fear. Merely hugged his crossbow to him like a teddy bear (not that he'd ever had one of those), feeling its reassuring heavy metal beneath him.

And it's strength. It would feed and protect him.

Would never let him down.

But he was so damn tired.

Merle, Merle! I'm here in our favourite place! He called out to his brother hoping he would hear and come and find him.

Somehow.

And sensed a faint glimmer of response - but it didn't feel like Merle. But before he could become alarmed, he began to fall. Like teetering on the edge of a steep cliff.

And the other hand holding the scrunched up shirt slowly relaxed its grip as the dark wings slowly spread, finally meeting in the middle to fully obscure his sight. And he passed over into not just darkness but blackness.

Falling but instead of into the clashing sea, into a dark, endless abyss.

Into a void of nothingness where nothing, not even dreams, awaited him.


	14. Chapter 14: Earl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi – you’ve probably all guessed who the old man is but anyway, here goes. Some love and comfort for the traumatised Daryl and maybe one positive influence in his early life that made him different from his brother.

i.  
He woke up to semi- darkness, his throat burning parched. Felt fever chills running hot and cold through his trembling body. And the shapes of branches looming high above his head disorientated him at first as he struggled to remember why he was outside. Recall where he was. Did he even want to remember? Tried to guess how long he had been out but had no idea. There were no birds twittering yet but somewhere an owl hooted and some unseen nocturnal animals were rustling in the undergrowth. But he felt no fear – the forest had always been kind to him, its inhabitants had never hurt him and he was used to their noises. Besides, he felt the crossbow beneath his arm – its comforting hardness and solid weight, his brother's last birthday gift before he left. And when Daryl hugged it to him, he felt safer. Like somehow it brought Merle closer to him. And at the same time, this action caused tearing, stinging pains in his back that made him cry out and reminded him why he was sleeping in the forest.

Daddy.

Cos' he'd punished him even more brutally than usual and he'd run away. First, away from his body and then finally out of the house. And he must have been out for at least one day – maybe even two. And he needed water even more than food, he realised as his stomach grumbled and cramped with hunger pangs. But he was sick, he was feverish. However, before he could try to get up, he sensed rather than heard a figure coming towards him out of the darkness.

'Merle?' He mumbled deliriously, hoping that he had heard him after all and had come back from wherever he was. Because the man was tall and broad like his brother. But also like his father but something told him that he needn't be afraid because Daddy couldn't have found him. Not here. Didn't know about their favourite place on the edge of the meadow because it belonged to him and his brother. Where the white flowers with the golden hearts bloomed every early summer.

The woods near the meadow, the place they went to be safe.

'Not Merle, son.' The man said and he sounded old. Older than Daddy even. 'Who's Merle? Your friend? Or maybe your brother?' And Daryl heard him crouch down on his knees in front of him, as he cringed back. The man was surprisingly nimble for his age. But then Daryl saw two of him, wavering in and out before his eyes. As the sweat dripped into his eyes and fever chills racked his body.

Daryl didn't answer, knew better than to talk to strangers. Hadn't his father and brother always told him how dangerous people could be? The bad things some of them liked to do, especially to little boys? And he turned his head away.

'Are you OK, son? I heard you calling for this Merle yesterday. Sounded like you were in trouble so I came looking for you.'

Daryl started to tremble. Shook his head in disbelief. Was he hearing things? Nobody knew about him and Merle's secret. Or had he spoken aloud? And how could he get out of this? And he was starting to make out more details as it grew lights and the birds began to greet the day. The man had long hair braided in two silver plaits. And he was Native American – 'a damn layabout redskin injun' as his father liked to call them. Then he recognised him from when he'd been gone – it was the same old man he had seen and who had somehow seen him.

'Why are you sleeping outside, boy, and not at home in bed?' He asked with concern.

Daryl looked down at the ground swaying before him. 'Jus' went campin', got lost.' He lied.

'Now, I don't believe that.' The man replied mildly. 'You're sick, ain't ya? And what happened to your face? Were ya in a fight? 'Cos it looks like ya got the worst of it.' Then he added confidentially in a lower tone, 'I know ya ran away from home sonny, didn't ya? Ya scared of someone there? Maybe of the person who did that to ya face?' Still Daryl didn't answer, didn't dare tell the truth, just trembled. Didn't dare to say why he'd been punished – because he was a murderer. How could he say that he'd killed his own mother? That he didn't deserve anyone's pity or kindness?

'Come here, baby boy. Earl ain't gonna hurt ya.' The man said tenderly before he bent down to gather Daryl gently up in his arms, surprisingly wiry and strong for a man of his age. And Daryl cried out in pain and flailed weakly because being lifted up and the jolting made his back hurt savagely again. And not least because he remembered the last adult who had said they weren't going to hurt him and what they'd done. But at the same time, he also recalled that Mama used to call him and Merle baby boy when he was small and before she stopped loving them. Sh...Sh...'It'll be over in a minute.' The man promised as Daryl lost consciousness.

When he came to, again with no idea of how much time had passed, they were in the cottage - the one he'd seen last time he'd been gone. The old man's home. But he couldn't see him and anyway, he must have passed out again because he woke up on his stomach with a blanket covering the lower half of his body but didn't feel any pain from his back. Or his head and he was still wearing his trousers. In panic, he reached behind him with his hands and felt something soft and scratchy and pushed it off his back. It fell to the floor. Hadn't even felt it there. Turned out to be some kind of bandage of plants that smelled herbal. Daryl worried that the old man had tried to poison him but then remembered Mama used to use these from time to time as medicine. Especially after an 'argument' with Daddy. He ran his fingers tentatively over his back – still no pain but he could feel the raised, bumpy scar tissue and knew that his father had marked him for life, just as he had feared. Wanting so badly to see how bad it looked in the mirror, he wondered how had he healed so quickly? Or had he been out longer than he thought? Then he looked around in panic for his weapons – his crossbow and hunting knife. With relief he saw that they'd been put away – across to him. Even Roxie's T-shirt, apparently washed again and dried was there, neatly folded up on the dresser. At least he'd be able to protect himself against the man if he tried to hurt him, he thought as he grabbed the knife and put into his pocket. Knew that Merle would be proud of him for that.

He'd just managed to do this in time when the door banged open and his kidnapper walked in. Daryl put his hand in his left pocket and felt the reassuring handle of his dagger. Just in case, he thought. 'You awake, son? How ya feelin'?'

'Better, thanks, Sir.' Daryl mumbled.

'You took the poultice off?' Daryl flinched although the man didn't sound angry, just surprised. 'Well, I guess it's done its job – your back's healed but couldn't do nothin' about the scars. They're permanent, sorry, can't do nothin' about 'em.'

'That's OK. Thanks, Sir.'

'You don't have to call me Sir. Earl will do.' The old man said. 'Ya wanna tell me what cruel person nearly whipped ya half to death?

'No, Sir!' Daryl replied sharply, shaking his head and then looked down shamefacedly at the bed. Didn't want to talk about Daddy but worrying that he had sounded ungrateful to the man who had saved him, he added, 'I mean, no, Earl -if ya don't mind.'

That's OK, son. You'll tell me when you're ready. Or not. Don't matter. But do you wanna tell me your name?' He said comfortably. 'And would you like some chicken soup?'

'Yes, please. My name's.. (Darlena)...Daryl.' And the man turned round to pour out a bowl from a pot kept warm. on the old-fashioned stove. While he was doing this, Daryl contemplated grabbing his crossbow and shirt if he could and running out of the front door. Seemed to be a one room cottage with another small door probably leading to a small outhouse. Nevertheless, it was clean and tidy and the old man was obviously house proud. But he didn't have nowhere else to go – he couldn't go home. But Earl had turned round with the steaming bowl of soup before he could even put his feet on the floor and was coming over to him.

And he was starving and his stomach cramped painfully as Earl walked slowly towards his bed and handed it to him with a wooden spoon. Daryl took it gratefully with both hands, mumbling his thanks as his stomach grumbled at the smell rising from the steam that was so good. But the man reached up, only to feel his forehead but Daryl flinched back so hard against the wall that he nearly spilled the bowl over the bed. Nearly hit his head on it too. Before he awkwardly righted it on his lap. 'Sorry,' he mumbled.

'Nervous Nelly ain't ya? Always flinchin' and twitchin.' The man laughed, though not unkindly. 'Guess I should have warned ya, son. Can I check your fever now?'

And Daryl reluctantly nodded and began to eat hungrily. Earl put his hand to his forehead and said with relief, 'Your fever's gone down.'

ii.

'My son drank himself to death and my daughter married a bad white man and went to live in another village. Last I heard he drinks and beats her. Some life, huh? And now I'm all alone.

'I'm sorry, Sir – I mean Earl.' Daryl replied politely.

'She won't have anything to do with me because I didn't like her new husband. Could see straightaway that he was a bad'un and we lost contact – look at this place, I can't even afford a phone. Then they moved and I don't where they went. Ain't seen her in 20 years.'

Daryl looked over at him but said nothing. Felt like there was nothing he could say.

'But at least I got you, Daryl. Even though you ain't mine. But you don't wanna leave me, do you son? Do you wanna go home?'

Daryl shook his head vigorously. Cos' he didn't never wanna go back home, not to Daddy. And Earl started cleaning Daryl's crossbow with oil and a rag. 'This is how you look after it, son. Wanna come over and see?' And Daryl wanted to go over but didn't because although it had already been three days, he still didn't quite trust the man yet. Sensing his reluctance, Earl said, 'That's OK. You just stay there where you feel comfortable. You can watch what I do. Maybe we can take it with us and go hunting tomorrow? Shoot us some deer, eat venison for dinner. Would ya like that?'

And Daryl's face lit up and a slow grin spread across his face. There was nothing that he liked more than tracking and stalking in the open air, in the forest. Reminded him of the good times and where he felt free. And Earl felt glad that he'd found something to make such a sad, uncared for boy happy. Knew what kind of home he came from even though Daryl refused to speak about it. Knew that he had taken back the knife but didn't say anything about it. If the kid needed to knife to make him feel safe, so be it. And Daryl gave him something too, helped with the loneliness, made him forget that he should be playing with his grandchildren now. Gave him a purpose to get up for in the mornings. And nobody seemed to be missing the boy, seemed like whoever had done that to his back (he guessed his father) didn't care where he was. He hadn't seen any missing notices for a lost child on the local TV or on the radio. What about the boy's mother? Didn't she care where he was or what he was doing? Probably hadn't even noticed that he'd even been gone. Earl knew that he should have reported the boy to the police but hadn't had the heart to. Also he wanted to keep him for his own selfish reasons.

He would just have to work on getting him to trust him. And he secretly hoped that no-one would claim him.

iii.

'Come on, son. Take the bow and aim for the bull's eye.' But Daryl shook his head.

'Can't. Can't do nothin'.' He muttered as he hunched his shoulders and looked down at the ground.

'Come on. Take it. Ya can do it.' Earl coaxed. 'Ya a smart boy.'

'I'll try.' And he took it hesitantly and aimed at the target nailed to the tree. He drew back the string in his bow and focused on the red dot in the middle. Then let the arrow fly. But it bounced off the outer circle and fell to the floor. And Daryl cowered, as if expecting a blow but Earl ignored this. He was used to Daryl's flinches and cringes by now. 'Cos some monster had taught him to react like that using blows and pain. 'Not bad,' (although it was) 'You just need to draw it back like this. At shoulder level.' He explained patiently. 'You had your hand up too high.' And he showed the boy, repositioning his hand and fingers who then let it fly and this time the arrow hit the circle nearest to the bull's eye. 'Well done, son.' Earl praised. 'See – you're a natural. Jus' need more practice, is all. Soon you'll be as good at archery as you are with that crossbow.' And Daryl beamed.

'And this is how we skin a rabbit…we can use the fur for hats and for lining boots in winter if we go roaming the mountains.'

'This is how we track the spoor of the buck. Not just his prints. See these markings on the tree where the bark has come off? This was where he was rubbing his antlers – called a deer-rub. Kind of like how we scratch an itch. Tells us that he's male. The size of the tree tells us he's big.'

'When we go huntin', we can use most parts of the animal we kill. The hide for leather, the bones for tools and knives. Kinda shows respect that we don't waste the life that it gave up for us.'

And Daryl watched, drinking it all, learning how to survive in the unimaginable future that lay in wait for him.

But the most important skills the old Cherokee taught him were how to manage his gift. 'I saw you, son.' The man said, breaching the subject, 'When you were walkin'. Ya already knew this place was here, didn't ya? Ya recognised me, too, right? Without ever being here before. That's how I found ya and brought ya back with me by walkin' 'cos ya were unconscious, it was easy.

'Yessir. I never met anyone who knew I was there.'

And so he showed him how to come back when he wanted to, not when he felt the pull. How to direct himself to go where he wanted to go when they went walking together through the use of meditation first. And burning strange herbs that smoked with not an unpleasant smell.

'I heard you calling your brother. I had to see ya first before I can hear ya. Does ya brother hear you?'

'I'm…I'm not sure. But he always came a-runnin' if he was close enough. It don't work if he's too far away.' Like now, he thought.

'It's unusual to see it outside my tribe or ya got Cherokee or Injun blood in ya son?'

'Don't think so.'

'Can ya brother walk too?'

'Not even when I showed 'im.'

'So, ya were in trouble when you were calling your brother?'

Daryl shrugged. 'Cos he was whippin'me.' He said coldly, matter-of-factly.'

'Why would someone wanna whip a sweet boy like ya? Can't imagine ya doin' anythin' that bad.'

'Cos I'm bad. For what I did to my Mama.'

'It can't have been that bad. What did you do to your mother?'

'Killed her.' And Daryl's chest began to hitch in and out. As he started to tremble. The tears threatening to spill, despite his father's lessons.

'And how were you supposed to have done that, son?' Earl asked very carefully, reaching up to brush back the hair on Daryl's nape. It was growing long there and this time Daryl didn't flinch.

'I gave her the smokes and the wine that killed her. She asked me to get them after Merle left.' Daryl's voice grew quieter and shakier until he was almost whispering. 'See – she was drinkin' and she left her cigarette burnin' and she died in the fire.'

'Oh son, I'm very sorry to hear that. But it don't mean ya killed her. It was just an accident, was all.'

'Daddy said that's why she died. Cos' of the smokes and wine I gave her.'

'Is that why he says he punished you?'

Daryl looked down at the ground in shame and nodded. He was shaking and the tears threatening to fall but he held them back. Cos Dixons didn't cry.

But he weren't Dixon no more. Didn't want to be. His Dixon Daddy had scarred him for life and his Dixon brother had left him behind with him without a backward glance.

'But it ain't your fault, son. Ain't none of it down to you.' The old Cherokee was still speaking calmly.

'He said that Merle left because of me, 'cos he hates me. 'Cos I'm bad.'

'You ain't bad, son. Just need someone to love you, is'all. Well, seems like if your Daddy whipped him as well, he felt he had no choice.'

'He did. Merle always protected me… from our Daddy and he nearly killed 'im too before he left for hittin' Mama.'

'Well, there you go, son, if he protected you it was because he loved you. And if he left, he must have felt that he had no choice. Thought he'd killed your father, for instance. He couldn't stay after that and I'm sure he didn't want to leave you. What was your Daddy's name, son?'

But before Daryl could answer, the Cherokee's eyes suddenly rolled back into his eyes –showing the whites and his body convulsed. Then before the boy could react, the old man slumped back into his armchair. 'No…No…No!' Daryl screamed and rushed to check his pulse on his wrist and in the artery in his neck (he had seen this on TV) and couldn't hear anything. Looked for signs of his chest falling and rising but it was still. But there were none.

He was dead.

This time Daryl gave in to the tears, didn't give a shit that Merle would tease him, call him 'Littl' Darlena or 'Sissy boy' if he was there, for crying like a littl' bitch. Or even that his Daddy would do far worse to him if he saw him. Because Daryl didn't want to be no Dixon no more and now he was mourning the man who'd saved him but had never told him his second name. Even if it was only for a little while, Earl had made more than his body better.

And taught him how to walk.

But now he had no choice but to be Dixon again.

He hated the fuckin' Dixons and he hated being a fuckin' Dixon. Didn't want to be one like his father or brother. Hated their fucked-up rules, hated their sickness that destroyed anything good from within like a cancer. Hated the cycle of hate and violence that trapped them.

Hated how they destroyed everything they fuckin' touched.

Ruined it.

He wasn't one of them and they knew it. Why else the viciousness?

After a while, it seemed like eternity, he dried his eyes and thought what he should do. No phone to inform the police or the neighbours who lived miles away, as the cottage was relatively far back from the village. But there would be a public phone somewhere. But he couldn't call the police who would hand him back to the man he was so terrified of and who done his best to break him.

But Dixons don't cry.

He could just find a phone and leave a message – he didn't want to leave Earl's body to rot.

For some reason, his eyes were drawn to the large red photo album on top of the wardrobe. Idly, he reached up for it. At least he should try to get to know the old man in order to remember him better. Remember these good times for the bad. Somehow, even young as he was, he sensed that he would need the good memories to sustain him in the future. Turned the first page – just pictures of the old man's wife presumably. She was pretty –long blonde hair – the same colour as Merle's but wearing a colourful tear dress. The couple seemed happy together, the woman looking up adoringly at her husband. Not like his mother who had seemed to hate their father even more than her sons did over time, the woman he remembered as mostly grim and stony-eyed.

And cold. So cold. Didn't care what Daddy did to him or Merle so long as she had her cigarettes and bottle of 'medicine' and he left her alone. Daryl struggled to remember when she had ever touched him or Merle but knew she must have done.

She was their mother after all.

Turned over a few more pages and suddenly came upon his parents with a jolt of surprise. He recognised the old photos from the mantle-piece before Daddy took them down when Roxie moved in. His father looking young and handsome, his face with a gentle smile on his lips, his mother looking small and fragile beside them, her long raven tresses plaited with colourful ribbons but wearing a traditional white dress. Both in their early twenties, life stretched out long in front of them. She, smiling blissfully with no idea of what her life would turn into. It was their wedding photo and even the date scribbled on top confirmed it – he knew the year they had got hitched. So, the old man hadn't approved but had presumably attended his daughter's wedding. But Mama had never mentioned him, had said both her parents were dead. Had always sounded bitter when she talked about her family.

What clinched it was the title at the top of the wedding photograph 'My daughter and her new husband, Walter' with the year. Other photos of the ceremony showed a younger Earl with raven black hair, as dark as their mother's giving her away.'

Earl was his grandfather!


	15. Chapter 15 Daryl/Merle and Daddy Dixon/Roxie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains reference to rape and domestic violence in part iii, please don’t read if it will trigger. I was trying to decide how far Daddy Dixon would go because obviously he has a certain idea of how a man behaves. How he treats women and children. It seems like it’s been ingrained into the Dixons for generations beyond memory. Merle struggles against this indoctrination too with Daryl. And the horror of it is that he isn’t always a monster and it would be easier if he was. But he often sounds normal which would make you, if you were his victim, wonder if you were the one who was crazy. Is he really crazy or just plain evil or a bit of both? I tried also to write from a child’s perspective – to describe the fear and confusion. Hoping things would get better. 
> 
> Also some more Daryl/Merle love. I’ve skipped between times, manipulated the sequence of events for my own purposes. Anyway, the first part explains more about what happens after Chapter 11 – Out of my mind. I hope this doesn’t confuse anybody.

i.

After the fight with Ed, Merle half-dragged, half-carried his hyperventilating and shaking brother and pushed him none too gently into his tent. As if to get him out of the sight of the others as quickly as possible. 'What the fuck is wrong with you?' He hissed, with his fists clenched at his sides. 'Dixons don't cry! And they never, ever show fuckin' fear!' Torn between beating the shit out of his embarrassing younger brother and putting his arms round him to give him the comfort he so obviously needed. Wanted to punch the Dixon who had showed his weakness to the others, worst of all, in front of Righteous Rick and Sniggering Shane, making Merle lose face. But he'd never done that to Daryl when they were growing up because that would make him like their father. And he had loathed the man – was never gonna do the things to Daryl, to a fuckin' kid, that the bastard had done to him as a child.

And of course he'd read psychiatry books in the prison library, knew this behaviour was normal for anyone who'd been through the shit Daryl had. In fact it was a fuckin' miracle that his little brother was not more fucked-up 'cos Baby Brother was tough. Didn't mean he had to encourage it, though.

But he'd have to teach him. Merle sighed. Cos' this kind of PTSD shit was likely to get them both killed.

So Merle took him by the shoulders and shook him but this made Daryl only cringe and whimper more. 'Now you made us both look like pussies, ya fuckin sissy bitch.Ya ain't no Dixon. Ya ain't even a man.' He sneered cruelly at him. 'They were only gonna cuff ya – weren't gonna do nothin' else, why d'ya need to be such a baby 'bout it? Cos they needed to be seen punishin' ya although everyone is on ya side 'cos they know that fat bastard deserved it. Don't ya get it?... Ya wanna be part of the group?' Merle yelled in his brother's face as he cowered and cringed back. 'Ya think they're gonna respect us after that? Some big, tough guy ya are now! That slimy Shane was fuckin' laughin' at us!' Then, he suddenly released his brother who slid down to the ground and curled up into a cowering ball of terror on the tent floor, gasping for air. And Merle knew that Daryl was almost fuckin' sobbin' but just didn't dare to. It was his baby brother, looking just like he must have done with their fuckin' Daddy that finally did it. Daryl, looking impossibly small and vulnerable, (he'd lost weight) just like a whipped puppy expecting a kicking and worse - acting like he thought he deserved it. Merle felt another surge of useless hatred towards their father who had broken him like that. And seeing him lying there, Merle felt his rage drain slowly away as he got down with him to put one arm around his younger sibling and urge his head down onto his lap. 'I'm sorry.' He told him. 'Merle's sorry. Didn't mean to lose my temper with ya.' Speaking to him like his brother was small again. And he had to try twice, three times before Daryl went willingly and for once, didn't struggle. '

Merle ain't gonna let 'em pricks cuff littl' Darlena, ain't gonna let them hurt ya, make ya do things ya don't want.' He whispered softly in his ear, as he stroked his hair soothingly. 'Not like 'im.' And when Daryl shuddered and whimpered softly at the mention of their Daddy and buried his head deeper into his brother's lap, Merle cradled him closer. 'We don't need 'em, 'cos ya'll never be one of 'em, they never gonna be able to understand, they always gonna be lookin' down at ya like ya redneck trash.' He crooned. 'It's only me that really cares about ya, ya know that, don't ya?'

Merle found that he liked it when Daryl freaked out, when he needed him again, when he was his.

But he didn't want him to be like it, 'cos that would be selfish, he had to try and make him better.

Somehow. Undo the damage.

But Daryl was starting to come back to himself and shook his head furiously from side to side, making Merle laugh nastily, sounding exactly like their father. 'Can't fight me, Darlena.' He mocked as Daryl tried to lift himself up - in panic, to get away from his brother but he couldn't make his limbs move. And Merle's one good hand was heavy like a lump of lead on him. Weighing him down.

Like their father's.

Marking him for his own.

Anchoring him.

And he was shaking, his heart felt like it was beating far too fast. His breath rapid and ragged.

Felt like it was gonna burst out of his chest any minute.

Hated this feeling of weakness. Why couldn't he move? Pushed the familiar childhood feelings of terror and panic away from him.

Anyway, he didn't believe what Merle said – knew it was Merle they would never accept. Knew that his brother just wanted to keep him all to himself.

As always. Never could have anybody when Merle was around. His psycho big brother soon scared them off.

'Git the fuck off me, Merle.' He snarled, fists clenched at his sides. But he couldn't lift his body. And Merle didn't take any notice. 'Don't touch me.' He pleaded suddenly and couldn't stop himself from cringing back as he felt his brother's one good hand move -only gently - over his hair or to stroke his back. Where his fuckin' scars were only covered by his thin shirt. Must be able to feel them, he thought and he shuddered.

Why was he touching him there? Why would anyone want to touch something so ugly and disgusting?

So damaged?

But Daryl knew. Trying to erase the damage he'd let happen. But he couldn't.

Damage was done.

And Merle had only started all this touch-feely shit when he'd found out exactly what their father had done to him when he wasn't there.

He wish he hadn't told him. This was fucked-up. It wasn't even like Merle was the caring type.

Had only been this way ever with his baby brother.

Now Merle was treating him like a fuckin' baby again.

'Not all touchin' is hurtin.' His brother lectured. 'Bout time you learned that.' Merle laughed dirtily. 'Sometimes - touchin' - it even feels... good. Like with a woman... Calm down. Don't be such a fuckin' littl' pussy. Ain't no-one gonna hurt ya.'

'Calm down.' Merle ordered again. And Daryl's body obeyed, because Merle was right. He was always right. As it stopped flinching from his brother's touch as his breathing slowed and finally became regular again. As it eventually stopped trembling 'cos Merle always knew how to make it stop. Because it felt like... almost as soft like..he struggled to remember what it reminded him of - their Mama holding him on her lap and stroking his hair. Merle was touching him in almost the same way, as the memory had come to him unbidden, of her singing to him in a melodic language he'd forgotten. As his heartbeat slowed too and the feelings of terror and panic began to fade away as his body began to relax. After a while, he growled back, stronger this time, more himself. And Merle inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. 'Fuck ya, Merle – it's ya they'll never accept. Shane's on his way out and they need me. Fuck ya, I don't need ya to protect me. Never did.' Daryl snapped again, looking up fiercely from Merle's lap, his eyes an unrelenting blue but then he suddenly broke his hard glare and ducked his head down shyly and snuggled closer to his brother.'Ya never did.' he repeated again, mumbling accusingly into his brother's lap.

At these words, that old, familiar guilt stabbed into Merle suddenly as he smoothed back his brother's hair. Him, who never regretted nothin'. Nothin' except when it came to his baby brother who he'd left behind.

The only thing in this worthless world he gave a damn about.

Left him alone with that monster who'd done his best to break Daryl in every fuckin' way he could jus' because he could never get to Merle.

Could never break him.

Because Baby Brother had always been more vulnerable. And Merle had never had anyone to look out for him. To protect him.

Merle shook off the memories. Changing the subject, he said, 'Ya hair's gettin' long, baby brother.' Merle ran his fingers through it. 'Ya look like one of those pansy fag-boys. Better ask Carol to cut it.' He teased him.

'Fuck off, Merle. The women like it.' But Daryl laughed and Merle laughed with him with relief.

And then Daryl vaguely felt his brother's other arm, the one without a hand, go around him. Making him feel safe. Because Daryl was beginning to drift, leave like he always did when shit got too fucked up because when he came back, he was always better.

Merle sensed him preparing to go walking, that he needed to leave to come back whole again and answered the unspoken question that passed between them out loud. 'Go on - get the fuck outta of 'ere, if ya need to. But if you're not back soon I'm gonna start callin' ya sorry ass back, ya hear?'

Fine. Drifting back into memories of their grandfather – before he left. The man Daryl shared his gift with and who had helped him control it better.

ii.

After Earl's death, he'd left the authorities with an anonymous tip. Didn't want his grandfather's body rotting, 'cos chances were he wouldn't be found for days, if not longer. And Daryl owed him this much – owed him so much more in fact. He'd left the old man behind, after kissing his cheek in farewell, armed with his crossbow and dagger, regretting that he hadn't known about him earlier but glad that he finally did.

Wishing that he hadn't died and that he could have lived with him instead of having to go back to his Daddy. Wished that he'd found out he was his grandfather earlier.

Reluctant to go home straight away, he had found an empty lumberjack's cabin. But it was drafty and as winter drew on, it got harder and harder to find food. And his clothes were too thin for this weather. So, reluctantly his thoughts turned to home. What if Merle came home from wherever he was after all and he wasn't there? Maybe Daddy realised that he'd gone too far and would be better from now on, especially if Daryl didn't do the things that made him mad. Maybe his father had even missed him and would be relieved to see that he was home safe. And gradually, he forgot why he'd left in the first place and things didn't seem so bad after his week with Earl. The memory of the last whipping had faded somewhat although he had the scars to remind him. Because a week and a half to a 10 year old seemed like a small eternity. And also he'd had time to heal, he'd put on weight with his grandfather but now of course he was losing it again now in the harsh conditions. All these thoughts ran through his head as he lay shivering in his thin shirt and sweater under a couple of cheap blankets in the cabin.

He'd forgotten what it was like living with his father. The pain and terror faded into the distance of time.

However, he realised that he couldn't survive on his own in winter – not like he thought. He was just a boy after all. So, reluctantly, he decided to go home, as night was almost over, he'd leave at dawn.

He tried to find his way back and although he'd walked the path before, he kept getting lost and even when he left his body to scout the way, he still somehow got confused. Found that the path he'd been following for what seemed like hours led him back full circle but even then he couldn't even be sure that he was back where he thought he was.

Later as an adult with more understanding, he would realise that his subconscious didn't want to go back home to his father, that he was 'getting lost' accidently on purpose. Especially since his gift had never failed him before.

Upon later reflection, he would know that it had been trying to warn him, stop him from going home.

Starving, confused, he'd luckily found a small spring of brackish water and dipped his hands and drunk from it.

After about two days, feeling like he was going to faint, he eventually came onto the older part of the forest which he recognised immediately and knew that he was close to home. It was early dinnertime and his stomach grumbled hungrily. And he felt relief because of course he knew the way from here.

Feeling apprehensive, not knowing what kind of welcome to expect but hoping that his father was out, he passed his and Merle's meadow then knocked on the door of his house. Listened for noises, voices, heard none. There was no one at home and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thought at first the door was locked but as he gave it a gentle push, it swung open. 'Cos the Dixons didn't have nothin' worth robbin'.

Shocked at the sight that greeted his eyes.

The place was a mess – empty and half –full bottles of J.D and bourbon and beer cans, wine glasses all over the living room – on the coffee-table, on the floor. Dirty cups and takeaway dishes littered the kitchen, piled up in untidy stacks with mouldy remnants of food on them. So Daryl raised the corner of Roxie's T-shirt against his nose and mouth to smother the stench.

Looked like the place had been deserted for weeks. Where was his father anyway?

But he was hungry. Looked in the fridge, gagging because the smell was worst there and of course there was nothing he could eat inside.

Food rotting – looked like they'd gone away for months but it had only been a couple at most. Then he heard a noise behind him as Roxie and his father came back. The girl was giggling, tossing her brown ponytail, her mouth red with lipstick but Daryl didn't fail to notice the red marks around her throat and the small black and blue bruises on her slim arms. When she saw the boy, she ran to him and embraced him, smacking kisses all over his face while Daryl flinched back. Could smell the stench of beer. 'Ugh' he muttered in his discomfort. 'Where ya been, baby? Ain't ya pleased to see me? We've been gone two weeks.' She asked him, laughing wildly.

'Leave the boy alone, woman.' His father told her although not unkindly. Laughing, his hazel eyes twinkling with merriment and whiskey. 'How about ya clear this place up, son? Why didn't ya do it while we were away? What ya bin doin' with yourself? Woman – ya make us some food we can eat. I'm starvin'.' His father commanded her.

'We ain't got no food in the house.'

'Well then, Daryl, go and buy us some. Here's 20 dollars. Go get bacon, eggs and bread. And make sure I get the full change back.'

They sat round the table, eating in tense silence. After Daryl had helped Roxie to clean up the place. Daryl was almost beginning to forget why he had left – seemed like things had gone back to normal. Neither Daddy nor Roxie showed interest in what Daryl had been doing after they left for their 'little road trip'. And for some reason, he didn't want to tell them that he'd found his mother's father. Knew how his Daddy hated those fuckin' redskins as he liked to call them. Didn't even want to tell Merle either 'cos their grandfather belonged to Daryl. 'Cos Earl was his.

Nothing bad happened and Daryl was starting to think that things would get better, be normal. Forgot how scared he was of his father. Hoped that Daddy was going to be like he used to be with him. That maybe there would be no more whippings or punishments. After all, he wasn't Merle. Daryl would just have to make sure that he didn't do anything to set his father off.

iii.

After dinner, his father and his girlfriend took a couple of bottles of JW's into the bedroom and tobacco to make spliffs and Daryl went to bed. Fell asleep immediately, he was so exhausted but was woken up from a deep, dreamless sleep by his father's yelling. Didn't know what time it was. He could hear every word although he tried to block the sound out by covering his ears with a pillow.

Just like Daddy had been with Mama.

'Ya fuckin' littl' bitch! Ya wanna leave? Who'll have an ugly, dumb junkie bitch like ya? Only me is willin' to put up with ya skanky ass!'

But Roxie was young and feisty and foolishly fought back. 'Me? Who'd want me? I have a queue of young, hot guys waiting round the block who want my phone number. Who'd want an ugly old layabout bastard like you? Your own son made your face like that after he beat the shit outta ya. No-on can understand what I see in ya – no one!' And she slapped his father!

Daryl trembled, wanting to tell her not to answer back to Daddy, especially not to hit him, 'cos it was really dangerous.

Remembered the last time he'd talked back to him and what had happened.

Now she was in for it.

Daryl flinched and cowered as he heard the first slap and Roxie's gasp. Then the next and the next.

She was crying now. 'Everyone was right about you, you're just a worthless drunk without a job who hits women and kids!' She screamed.

He was shaking now, tried to cover his ears with the pillow but it didn't help. Wishing above everything else that Merle was here – cos' Merle would know what to do. Daryl didn't – he was just a kid. He was just littl' Darlena. Couldn't help Mama neither when she was alive.

Heard Roxie's screams as his father moved on to using his fists now. Probably kicking her to the floor as well.

Of fuckin' course.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, Daryl curled up into a ball, trying to block out the noises from the other room. Couldn't help his body trembling though Daddy wasn't punishing him.

Shouldn't matter. Merle would say, 'Don't give a shit. She ain't Mama. She jus' some ugly junkie whore he's shacked up with.'

But Daryl couldn't not care because Roxie had been kind to him, had made his breakfast before he went to school, packed his lunch and washed his clothes. Said she'd always wanted a little brother but only had an older sister. Had kissed him and ruffled his hair although he thought that was yucky.

Had always called him Baby.

Not him getting punished. Should just be glad and not give a shit.

Suddenly, his and Merle's bedroom door opened with a crash and his father was standing in the doorway only in his pyjama bottoms. Eyes red and his eternal lopsided grin looking even more demonic than usual, his hair mussed up and Daryl knew he was next. But his father only ordered him into the living room. He could hear Roxie's sobs coming from their bedroom.

'Stop fuckin' shakin'.' His father ordered him but Daryl couldn't. 'I'm only gonna teach ya a little lesson, son. How men handle uppity women who don't know their place.' With that he went to the bedroom and dragged out Roxie by her hair and threw her to the ground. She was wearing a short, pink, silk slip and it rode up to expose her smooth, pale thighs and Daryl looked away embarrassed. Her face was a battered mess of red marks and bruises. Her lipstick and mascara smudged with her tears – looking like a hideous clown's mask. She was crying by now, defeated and curled up into a ball on the floor.

Broken like him how many times on the floor?

Lying on the floor just like Daryl had done. And just like he'd done to him in the past, his father pulled his booted foot back and kicked her several times in the ribs and she screamed.

'That's for answerin' me back, you little slut! For threatenin' to leave me!' Then he knelt down to hiss in her face, as she cringed away from him. 'You ain't never leavin' me, bitch! Unless I let ya, 'cos you're mine now.'

'Stop!' Daryl cried.

'What?' His father replied increduously. 'Stop what?' Then his eyes narrowed as if weighing up options. His eyes drunkenly flickering back and forth between Roxie and Daryl.

'You ever fucked, son?' He asked casually.

Daryl was confused. Why was his father asking him this?

'Wha…why?' He stammered. He was only ten for fuck's sake.

'Merle was an early starter. Not much older than you when he stuck it to the first bored housewife down the road.' His father guffawed at his own dirty joke.

'But not you, huh, sweet Daryl.' His father sniggered.

'Leave…leave 'im alone, he's jus' a baby.'

'Shut up bitch!' His father kicked her again and she groaned.

'Let Daddy show ya how it's done.' His father bent down to gently pick up Roxie. With a tenderness which somehow made everything worse. And she struggled uselessly – his father had a least a 100 pounds on her.

'No, no, please. Not in front of the boy.' She reached up with her hands and cupped his face, kissed his father full on the mouth. 'Let's go back in the bedroom, hey, baby? Ya can do what ya want there, I'll let you.' And she tried to lead him by the hand back into their room.

Daryl cringed back at this grotesque scene – Roxie with her hideous clown mask kissing his father, trying to persuade a monster to show mercy because he knew that it would do no good. So, he put his hands over his eyes.

'Please, Walter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You don't have to do this. I'll do anything ya want.'

'Shut ya mouth, whore. Ya'll do what ya told.' His father slapped her face only lightly but she flinched.

'Don't ya cover ya eyes, boy!' His father yelled at him. 'Or I'll punish ya next. Be a man, watch and learn!'

So grabbing her brutally by the hair, his father slammed Roxie against the kitchen table and pinned her there. Then pulled down his pyjama bottoms and pulled her slip up and began to thrust into her violently without preamble in front of his youngest son. She screamed in pain, writhed like she was being tortured as he pounded away at her. Like she was trying to escape. And Daryl could only watch, wishing he was a thousand miles away. Thought about leaving but didn't dare. He felt sickened, although of course, Merle had made him watch his porno movies with him 'to educate him' but they were nothing like this.

His father continued, gasping in between groans which seemed to last forever to Daryl shuddering with a shout of triumph as he came and pushed himself off his girlfriend.

'This is how we deal with women who talk back to us. Who disrespect us.' His father lectured as he pulled up his trousers and his breathing slowed down to normal again.

Looking proudly over to his son.

But Daryl watched horrified. There was a difference to watching sex on TV and watching your own father do it. Besides, the women in his brother's favourite movies had seemed to enjoy it. And he hated his Daddy even more, swore that he was never gonna do that sex thing.

Pulling up his trousers, his father grabbed Roxie and pushed her, docile now, her eyes glazed, stumbling back into the bedroom. Refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

'This is what a real man does, son. And don't ya forget it. This is how we punish our women when they step out of line.'

'This is how you fuck one.' Daddy added.

'Get in there, bitch.' He ordered her. 'And make sure ya mind me next time.'

The next morning, Roxie sullenly laid the table and cooked the breakfast for Daryl and his father but didn't make anything herself. Refused to meet Daryl's eyes. The new bruises on her legs and her black eye and split lips didn't escape him either. She said nothing but glared in silent accusation at his father who was behaving like nothing had happened. Acting jolly, he reached over her arm to grab the sugar for his coffee and she jerked it violently away and backed away from him. 'Hey, honey,' his father said, 'I said I was sorry about last night. Things jus' got a littl' outta hand, is'all.' His father said with a comic hangdog look on his face.

Usually it would have charmed her into forgiving him but not this time.

'Fuck you, Walter. I'm leavin' ya. What ya did last night…..and the way ya treat ya poor son - everybody's right about ya, Dixons are the fuckin' scum of the earth. Should 'ave listened to 'em.

Walter shrugged. 'Ya jus' do what ya gotta do, sluts like you who'll do anythin' for some meth and booze are easy to come by. Ya ain't nothin' special, darlin'.'

She didn't reply but slamming the milk down, grabbed her handbag and walked out the door. Without a single look back. 'I'll send your crap onto your place, shall I?' His father called after her but she didn't answer. Left without saying goodbye to Daryl either and he just wanted to run after her and beg her not to go. Tell her he didn't want to watch last night but his father made him. Plead with her not to leave him alone with his Daddy.

But Daddy was watching him with his eyes narrowed, like he could tell what he was thinking and he was frozen to the chair.

Left him just like Merle did. Even Earl. Did everyone have to leave him? Wasn't there anyone who cared enough to stay?

His father, seemingly unaffected, swallowed back the rest of his coffee and carried on eating his toast. And Daryl looked down at his boiled egg and soldiers that he no longer wanted, in fact had had never wanted. His appetite, good when he was at Earl's seemed to have disappeared since he came back. His stomach felt all twisted up into knots.

'Come on, eat up boy. Ya gonna need ya strength. We got a lot of chores to do today.

And Daryl reluctantly began to eat. But each mouthful seemed like hard stones that wouldn't go down his throat, every swig of orange juice burned his gullet.

'Looks like it's just you and me now, son.'

And Daryl couldn't help the shudder that passed through him at his father's words.


	16. Chapter 16: Worse than Walkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the way, sorry in advance for the homophobic reference but I don’t think Daryl is a real homophobe, he’s just using the family language that they grew up with to his brother.

Daryl’s eyes fluttered and he came to slowly. Heard another man’s snores, didn’t know where he was and first panicked and struggled as he felt what seemed like someone’s weight on top of him.  
Pinned down. Trapped. Couldn’t breathe.  
Then he’d remembered. He’d lost it with Ed and the others had wanted to punish him. But Merle had stopped them. It was only his brother and his heavy arms around him.  
Only holding him. Babying him.  
‘What the fuck ya doin’, Merle?’ He hissed at his brother and pushed away the muscular, tattooed arms encircling him as Merle stirred but didn’t wake up.  
‘Git the fuck off me, ya fuckin’ fag.’ He growled at him. ‘I ain’t a fuckin’ baby.’  
Don’t need you, never needed you ‘cos you were never there.  
Not when it mattered, anyway.  
He was in a particularly bad mood because he hadn’t wanted to come back, had been enjoying the high sense of euphoria from circling the forest while borrowing the eyes of a mountain eagle. He’d never been able to do that before. Had soared over the peaks and valleys where the cattle looked like tiny dots, the rivers like thin threads of silver winding in between them. The mountain scenery had been stunning as he’d turned and wheeled on the updrafts.  
Until he’d finally given in to the urgency in his brother’s calls after gently withdrawing from the bird’s body, leaving it a little disorientated but otherwise unharmed. Knowing that he could have killed it easily, ripped it apart from the inside if he’d wanted to. Or ordered its heart to stop beating, its lungs from drawing breath. But he’d felt its anxious desire to return to its mate sitting on the nest with their young, its need to bring down prey to feed them through the image in its mind. More or less pleading with him.  
So he’d let it go.  
‘Thank-you.’ He’d whispered gently to its mind before leaving. ‘Go feed your family.’ And this made him think of his own family, even if they weren’t blood.  
Hadn’t known he could do that. Hadn’t the old man said that it would be impossible for him ‘cos he weren’t pure blood?  
And he’d come back because Merle made him think something had happened.  
But Daryl had seen something important, something that affected the survival of them all, that he urgently needed to tell Rick. But before he could think what it was, he rolled onto his side away from his brother and had fallen into a deep sleep.  
‘Cos walking took a lot of energy. And before he succumbed to the waves of weariness, he knew that he should try to stay awake long enough to tell the Merle and Rick what he’d seen but he couldn’t hold on. Had tried his best but wasn’t able to.  
Sorry, he mumbled to no-one in particular before the darkness took over and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
The sun was rising, filling the tent with a golden glow through its thin, blue walls and Merle woke up, his arms feeling strangely empty and uneasy from dreams of birds flying over mountains. Worse, he’d sensed a danger a little far off but marching closer all the time which contained a ring of truth but he couldn’t remember what it was.  
Not the Walkers, something even worse. And getting nearer. What had he read in one of those books in prison? ‘Hell is other people.’ Who’d said that? How could they have known?  
Merle shook his head to try to clear it. Didn’t believe in their Mama’s superstitious crap or what she called her sixth sense or her stories of people turning into animals. However, one early memory rose unbidden, of sitting on her lap and her reading to him from that magic book with arms around him. Crooning to him, calling him her ‘special baby-boy. ’ Even stroking his fuckin’ hair.  
Before Daryl.  
And he felt that old surge of jealousy and resentment towards his brother, ‘cos when baby brother came, he’d been her ‘special baby- boy’ for a little while too and she had ignored Merle.  
Probably Daryl didn’t remember her being like that with him.  
When had she changed? Why?  
But he didn’t want to think about that.  
He pushed the memory away because otherwise it would mean that she’d loved him once and that he didn’t have a reason to hate her no more.  
Fuck – why were the memories of her always worse than the ones of his father? He mused as he unconsciously rubbed one of his scars – the long thin, silvery one that ran up all the way from his wrist to just below his elbow.  
Then he noticed the light snores coming from his brother from the other side of the tent. At least Darlena had come back but only hours of Merle calling him. ‘Little bastard’, he muttered but without any real anger.  
‘Cos despite what the others thought, Daryl didn’t do nothin’ he didn’t want to do.  
Them, looking at him like he was the fuckin’ Pied Piper, come to lure their little precious Daryl away from them.  
Or the Devil, gonna steal his soul or somethin’.  
Thought he had some kinda evil influence over his baby brother.  
Didn’t know that it was Daryl who called the shots, not him. Despite appearances.  
Even if it hadn’t always been like that, it was now. When had Merle stopped being the one in charge? He couldn’t remember.  
Daryl stirred uneasily as his snores died away and his eye-lids fluttered open and looked sleepily at his brother. Merle checked him over by looking into his eyes. Saw he was relaxed now and Merle could almost hearing him purring like a mountain lion, lolling about and luring its prey into a false sense of security before it pounces. And he glimpsed the flash of steel buried just beneath the blue depths and knew that Daryl was back.  
At least until vulnerable little Darlena emerged, made that way by their father, needing his big brother again.  
‘What did you see, little brother?’ He demanded urgently without delay. ‘Are we in deep shit or what? Not that I give a flying fuck about Shane or Rick. But even I wouldn’t want nothin’ bad to happen to sweet littl’ Beth or Carol.’ And Merle leered like a comic villian because of course he’d sensed their growing closeness with Daryl. Was trying to goad him. But he didn’t need to explain the images he’d gleaned from his brother’s mind – the danger that he’d sensed he’d seen, even if they took it for granted.  
Daryl’s eyes lost their glazed, complacent look and snapped wide open, as if his brother’s question had jerked him sharply back to reality. He ignored his brother’s jibes, knew that Merle was jealous ‘cos none of the women in the camp would hook up with him, despite his crude and clumsy efforts.  
‘We gotta tell Rick! There’s another group, not like us - about 30 of them and they got weapons, more than we got!’ He leapt up, almost running out of the door. ‘They killin’ everyone – the men, even the littl’ kids, except for the women, they keepin’ them but they gonna wish they were dead! And they headin’ this way!’  
‘Hold on, littl’ brother.’ Merle tried to stop him. ‘Let’s think about this. Why is it our problem? Ya forgot what they did to me?’ And he raised his stump, jerking it at the ceiling for emphasis. ‘We don’t owe these bastards nothin’. We can just go.’ He added persuasively.  
‘Fuck ya, Merle! Ya deserved it ‘cos ya a simple-minded piece of shit who don't care about no-one but 'imself!’ Daryl turned round and yelled in his brother’s face. ‘And if ya weren’t such obnoxious, racist scum, they wouldn’t have cuffed ya to the roof in the first place!’  
Merle was surprised. Daryl was yelling at him? He was definitely back. ‘Ya choosing them over me, boy? Me who raised ya, stopped ‘im from…’ But he found that he couldn’t speak in his rage as he got ready to drag Daryl outside and show him with his fists who was boss.  
‘Yeah? Stopped ‘im from what?’ Daryl sneered back. ‘Ya didn’t stop ‘im from nothin’! Get outta my fuckin’ way!’ And he shoved Merle aside.’ They good people, not like us, Merle!’ He called back over his shoulder.  
And before Merle could move, his brother was out of the tent and striding towards the main camp.


	17. Chapter 17 Beth and Daryl and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Contains mention of consensual sex (foreplay) in the third part – hope it is realistic – I never really wrote much of it before.) More on the brothers’ relationship – I find this so interesting to write about it with Merle trying to pull Daryl one way, the group pulling him in the other direction. I forgot to say this has some AU elements and my interpretation of the brothers’ relationship is a little quirky – unusual.

i

Once he'd got away from his brother, his own fuckin' brother who'd been practically spooning with him when they were sleeping. True, he had been gone walking, not himself in fact. His brother's arms had been around him like what Merle would have called filthy homo-fags did (not that Daryl had a problem with them as long as they didn't come onto him) but Merle always acted like he did. Had dragged Daryl into more than one gay-bashing to cover his back with his ex- soldier buddies. Or strode into gay bars and deliberately provoked fights. This made Daryl wonder if something had happened to him in prison but surely not – Merle was always an alpha wolf – would never have been anyone's–would have killed them first. But of course Daryl hadn't wanted to know but he had guessed what Merle'd done without any pussy available all those long months when he'd been banged up.

But then he thought it wasn't like that, he was just been paranoid. Of course even Merle felt guilty for not being there when Daryl needed him like he'd always promised, this was his way of trying to make it up to him. By treating him like he was a baby again with this touchy-feely shit. Well, it's too late for that.'C'os I toughened up just like ya always taught me and in the end I killed him when I was only fuckin' twelve years old. Same age as Carl. Did what you threatened but never had the balls to do. Is that tough enough for ya? Am I a man now? A real fuckin' Dixon?

Fuck ya and fuck'im. He thought angrily as Merle ran up to him and grabbed his arm roughly but Daryl furiously shook it off and carried on walking.

'Look, we could just go. We don't owe these people anythin'.' His brother tried to reason with him.

'Same old Merle, don't give a damn about no-one but ya worthless self. Ya go. Leave.'

'I'm your blood, boy! And they damn near killed me. Ya forgot that already?' Merle barked at him and furiously turned his brother around to face him while Daryl struggled, pushing him away finally and then backing away from him. 'Don't ya ever forget ya kin, little brother. ' He drawled. 'We Dixons. Look, I know about ya and ya sweet little girlfriend but she ain't worth dying for. Carol neither.' Merle's spoke quieter and his voice turned almost wheedling. 'Don't ya remember we were gonna rob 'em blind?'

Daryl's eyes opened in surprise and ignoring the last question, he stammered 'How d'ya know…she ain't my girlfriend.' Then, he looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet shyly.

'Ya can't hide anything from me, boy. I known ya since you were in shittin' and pissin' in your own diapers, unable to clean or feed yourself remember? And I seen the way she follows ya around with her puppy-dog eyes – those big, blue eyes. Merle drawled. 'Cos you now the big hero who saved her from those scary, bad men. ' Merle continued, his tone softening as he leered and waggled his tongue suggestively. 'Hey, maybe I'll take a shot at in one or two years when she's grown.' He teased, emphasising the last word.

'Ya keep ya fllthy hands off her!' Daryl growled at the older man and clenched his fists at his side. 'Ya stay away from Beth, ya hear!'

Merle chuckled at his brother's protectiveness and lifted his hands in mock surrender. ' Don't worry, I don't fuck little girls but she sure is sweet. How can ya resist, little brother? Ya a better man than me.' He guffawed mockingly.

'We ain't….we ain't doin' nothin'…'

'Yeah right. Ya expect me to believe that, little brother? When ya cosying up with her every night? Her sweet little ass warm and willing in ya bed?' He licked his lips obscenely. ' Guess her father and Rick would take ya out and shoot ya, if they knew. Better we don't go back, hey. 'Cos someone might let it slip.'

'Fuck you, Merle.' Daryl hissed. 'Ya won't say nothin' because if ya do, ya ain't my brother no more.' Because he knew that this was what Merle feared most, losing him and being left all alone because no one else would have him. 'Asshole,' Daryl muttered to himself as he turned away and resumed his stride back to the main camp. He had people he needed to warn, to save and besides, he knew that Merle wouldn't do what he threatened. And tonight he would sleep in his own bed and Beth would probably come since he'd taken more to sleeping in the prison and not in his tent. Somehow, he'd got used to it and the feelings of being trapped had faded. Especially when she was there. He'd never known the difference it could make having another body sleeping beside you, to keep the demons at bay.

His older brother sighed but followed. He wondered when the balance of power between them had changed, remembering when Daryl used to do everything Merle told him and follow him around with big, puppy-dog eyes. Looking up at him like he was his fuckin' hero who stopped Daddy hurting him.

How Merle missed those bad old days.

ii.

Daryl broke into a run as he approached the prison and Merle was reluctantly forced to keep up with him. 'Damn ya, ya littl' bitch, Darlena.' He muttered irritably at his brother's back.

The gate was closed of course and Daryl motioned Glenn to open it, ignoring his questioning look, he told him 'I need to see Rick, now!'

'OK, ….OK, son, what's the big emergency?' Herschell piped in. 'Ya look like ya feelin' better.' He added.

'I'll tell you all after I've seen Rick.'

'He's in the recreation room.'

'Tell everyone to meet there, I got some important information but I need to speak to him alone first.'

Before the meeting began (it took some time to get most people there who could come), Carol came and very lightly touched his arm, her face brightening as soon as he walked in. Beth only smiled at him – they didn't want to make things obvious. And most people asked him if he was feeling better now, their faces showing their relief. And it seemed like they preferred to pretend that he had been sick. Only Glenn and Maggie glared and pointed at Merle. 'Why is he here?' Glenn asked furiously as he moved to protectively stand in front of his girlfriend.

'Because he's my brother.' Daryl answered calmly, keeping the snarl out of his voice with great difficulty.

'You forgot what he did to me and Glenn?' Maggie yelled furiously.

Merle sighed wearily. 'Look, we've been through this, ya want me to get down on my knees and grovel? I said I'm sorry.'

'Everybody shut up!' Rick suddenly yelled. 'Daryl's one of us and maybe we don't like his brother but he's with us now.' Merle snickered at his candour and then leaned back casually against the wall. 'Sides, what Daryl's got to tell us is more important than your personal differences.' Rick continued.

'If ya don't want my brother, I'll leave with 'im. Either all or nothin'.' Daryl added resolutely and then glared around at everyone. Then he looked at Rick who nodded. 'Tell them what you told me and Shane.' The former cop encouraged him.

'Something worse than the Governor is comin' - don't reckon he'll make his move for a while. Randall's crew - at least 30 – are coming over the mountains.' He began with minimum preamble. 'They'll be here in 2 or 3 days at most. And they killin' everybody – men, little kids, except the women. And if they come here, the women gonna wish they were dead.' And as he glanced over at them, Beth, Maggie and Lori shuddered at his chilling words as a worried babble of voices greeted his news. And Lori placed her hands over her growing stomach defensively.

Shane of course challenged Daryl's source of information, speaking loudly over the anxious voices. 'How the hell can you see over the mountains?'

Daryl shrugged. 'Got spy-glasses, went on my bike.'

'Can I see you in private, Daryl?' Rick asked him quietly. Shane's sneer at this question didn't escape him from the corner of his eye either. 'You best buddies, now? What about me?'. Shane asked sarcastically. 'I'm your second in command.' He whispered furiously at the leader. And Daryl caught Dale's eye and knew that he understood that Shane was being shut out of the inner circle. It seemed that no one, including Rick, had forgotten how he'd used unnecessary force on Daryl.

Or suspected that he had abused his power in other ways. No-one really trusted him now.

'Shane, I'll tell you later. I just want to get some details clear with Daryl of what he saw.'

'Fine.' The other replied ungraciously, obviously not convinced as he turned away.

'Sorry about my... um…episode, and for attacking Ed.' Daryl apologised awkwardly when they were alone because where he came from, no one did apologies.

'That's OK. We're just glad that you're back.' (Rick emphasised the last word) and Daryl wondered at the other man's look of concern. Like he actually cared. 'We understand why you reacted like you did, we really do. Your Carol's friend after all. But we just can't be seen to condone it, there got to be a process, rules, ya understand.'

'How is he?'

'He's on the mend.'

'Hopefully, he's learnt his lesson for good.'

'Yep, we hope so if we can keep him off the booze.'

'Daryl….' Rick began tentatively, speaking to him more gently than usual. 'I know about your gift. About walking. That's how you knew about the enemy coming over the mountains, wasn't it? And I believe you. Now, before the Apocalypse, I wouldn't have believed a word of it, would have laughed it off as a load of superstitious claptrap. But I've got to believing in a lot of stuff that would have seemed impossible lately. Like a virus that turns people into the walking dead who feed on the living, for example.'

Daryl was taken aback, he'd never told anyone before. 'Did Merle tell you?' He asked panic growing in his voice.

'Now, don't ya be getting angry at ya brother. I'm the leader – I need to know these things. I won't tell anyone else – nobody else needs to know. It's just between you, me and Merle. But this ability could be very useful for us. Do you know how far you can go?'

'I'm not sure but when I saw Randall's crew, I was flying above the mountains with an eagle. Never could do that before but I can't always choose when I walk. And I can't do nothin', only look and watch.' Daryl smiled at the memory while Rick's eyes widened in surprise and excitement.

'Now that could be useful. Maybe we can see our enemies or a herd before they reach us.' He said but then his face fell as he contemplated the danger they were in. 'Let's call everybody back – we need a plan.'

So they decided that they would stay and fight. Rick with Shane delegated the orders. Reinforcements of the windows and doors would be needed, possible points of entry blocked and weapons and medical supplies stockpiled. Extra sentries were put on duty not just on the lookout for the Walkers who seemed relatively harmless in comparison to what was coming and the many other things needed to be done to prepare for war. Throughout the prison settlement, it felt that people were keeping busy to stop themselves dwelling on the fact that the next dawn might be their last. A heavy cloud of dread was hanging over the whole camp – intangible but it could be sensed. Everyone was waiting for a resolution – one way or another and it would be a relief when the attack by Randall's people finally came. And there was always the added fear of a possible attack by Woodbury on top.

iii.

Later that night, Daryl lay in bed in the prison cell. Even his brother had abandoned the tent, bringing it inside and found his own after Daryl's news. Funny thing – Merle had known about the danger too before Daryl had even told him but that happened sometimes that his brother could pick up his thoughts. Or the images he had seen on his travels outside his own body.

Merle had some of the Cherokee gifts but not as powerfully as his younger sibling. Daryl glanced at his cheap battery alarm clock taken on some run or other – nearly 2, where was she? Maybe she wasn't coming. He was about to give up, maybe she didn't want to be with him anymore after his episode when they'd tried to restrain him. Or maybe she was scared of him after what he'd done to Ed. And he couldn't blame her for thinking he was a psycho – after all he was going to gut the wife-beater with his hunting knife. He sighed and turned over.

But before he could drift into a really deep sleep, he felt her slip into bed beside him and his arm automatically went round her. And she snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his chest.

And she was wearing that short, pure-white silk peignoir again that didn't even begin to nearly cover enough. And he turned his head away, tried not to look. She was just a kid after all.

'Ya OK? Ya not scared of me, are ya?' He mumbled sleepily and felt her shake her head before she answered, 'No. Why?'

'After what I nearly did to Ed.'

'No. Of course not... but I'm scared of those men comin', men like Randall. And the Governor.' She trembled beside him and he pulled her closer to him.

'I ain't gonna let anyone hurt ya, sweetheart.' He drawled reassuringly and pulled her closer to his chest but then his breathing slowed and he began to snore lightly. '

Wait.' She said, shaking him awake.

'What…?'

'Well, …If tonight is maybe our last night….how come we never do… anything? I mean don't ya like me?'

He struggled awake, his eyes fluttering.

'Why haven't you kissed me yet? All we do is sleep.'

'Too young.' He mumbled dozily. He was so damn tired. 'Merle says…..'

'What does Merle say?' She asked alarmed. 'Did you tell him about us?'

'He knows anyway… always knows everythin'... Don't worry…Won't say nothin'. He closed his eyes and his breathing became regular.

'Wake up! ' She hissed, thumping his chest lightly. He came awake immediately when she did that, reaching instinctively for his knife and crossbow but then realising where he was and who he was with.

'It's been 3 weeks. I want you to…to…kiss me.' She insisted.

No answer. He tightened his arm around her and gently urged her back down. But she didn't want to lie down – it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She sprang up again. She could hold back no longer – they might all be dead tomorrow. She inclined her head and slowly moved her lips closer to his. She knew that he flinched a lot and she wanted to give him plenty of warning, he was always so skittish. But he was wide awake now but she merely bumped her lips against his. Before trying again, then his mouth was open and he was ready. She closed her eyes as their tongues met, sparks of electricity. He closed his eyes too and put his arm around her and then plunged his hand deep into the mass of her soft, blond hair. They stopped to breathe and then kissed again, this time longer and deeper. He was forgetting what he was doing, seemed like he was on autopilot but shit, she was just a kid. More than 20 years younger than him.

Merle's words rang in his ears but he ignored them as his body took over. But he still wasn't sure how far he could go with this kid so he tentatively slid one hand down from her waist and and cupped one buttock. An unwelcome flashback of Daddy and Roxie in the kitchen came to him, Roxie's bruised and battered, terrified face. Her shame.

'Cos for him, how his Daddy had taught him, sex had always meant receiving pain or inflicting it.

But he wasn't gonna do that.

'Ain't never gonna do what Daddy did to Roxie.' He mumbled, barely realising what he was saying. She pulled back and stared at him curiously. 'What?' she breathed.

'Nothin.' He muttered and kissed her again.

She didn't seem to mind what he did and took it as a signal to straddle him. Encouraged, he reached up with one hand to touch one breast, his finger tips grazing one nipple that he could feel through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Was she wearing any panties, he wondered but didn't dare to ask.

She seemed to like what he was doing, she arched her back and gave out a soft moan in response. He touched her breasts again, one hand on each, concentrating on rubbing the nipples. She was getting excited now, he could tell and she hadn't pushed him away or asked him to stop. She bent down and kissed him again while he massaged her nipples. 'It's OK, I want to.' She breathed. 'And I'm not wearing any panties. Touch me there.' And she guided his fingers down. By then, both were breathing heavily, panting almost. 'I had a fiance, ya know.' She said. 'We were going to get married.'

'Sorry.' He said, distracted.

'Do it like that, that's good, that' s good.' She moaned.

And she leaned forward as she was gasping, as his hands were moving faster under her. Her hands snaked towards his chest she wanted to reach under his shirt, to undress him while he touched her. To feel his skin. Then she was going to pull his trousers off. But now she was going to touch him where his scars were – on his back of course. She would maybe feel them before she saw them. She would know that he was ugly, a monster, who'd deserved all of them for killing his own mother. With this realisation, he felt his desire fade, felt himself shrinking.

'Don't.' He said taking his hands away from under her to push hers away from his chest. They were wet. And she nearly screamed 'Don't stop!' in frustration but then she calmed down. After all, they had the whole night before them.

She could wait, even if it was the end of the world. She'd waited a long time already, had been patient with him.

But she thought he was teasing. 'Come on, don't be shy.' She coaxed laughingly and tried again. But he didn't hear her, all he heard was his father yelling and slapping him, 'Take your shirt off, boy!' and he couldn't help cringing back.

'Don't'. He repeated, this time and he sounded how it came out sounding like a plea.

She took notice this time and got off him.

'What's wrong, baby? I thought we were having fun.' And she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

'There's something I gotta show you first. Now, don't be scared.'

'OK.' Curious, and not a little alarmed, she released him.

'See – Daddy was a mean drunk, sometimes even when he wasn't drinkin' and he did…did some bad things.'

Her face fell and concern stretched across her features. She took his hand.

'What kind of things, baby?'

'I'll show you.' He pulled his hand gently out from hers. 'If you promise you won't scream.'

'Daryl – you're scaring me!'

So he lifted off his shirt very slowly and refused to meet her eyes. 'Don't scream.' He whispered again, almost pleading this time and showing her his muscular, six-pack stomach before turning around slowly to show her his back. She gasped. 'He did that? How?'

'Yeah. With his belt, mostly.' He replied like it didn't matter.

'Your father – your own father did that to you?' She cried as her tears began to flow. He turned round and saw the pity and horror that he couldn't stand to see in her eyes. The reason why he never showed his back to anyone, yet Merle had found out by accident. But his brother had screwed around enough for both their lifetimes. His scars were even worse and they hadn't stopped him being with women. But then most of them he had paid. Or they were junkies who'd do anything for a fix and they hadn't cared who they had to fuck.

Not many decent women but then they wouldn't look twice at a Dixon.

'Why?' She began to sob.

Because I'm a murderer – I killed her. 'No reason.' He said stoically. But Daddy was right – in the end he had murdered him too when he couldn't take no more. Murdered both his parents – was damned to hell for sure. He was bad, bad, bad! Despite what Merle had said. Deserved to die, deserved the punishments. And he was a no-one, would never amount to anything.

But he didn't tell Beth any of her he only replied, 'Just a mean drunk, was all.' He shrugged. 'No real reason.'

The scars felt like they were burning, especially the two long ones from the knife that criss-crossed his back. Must be with the shame he thought ironically and almost laughed out loud at the thought of his scars, his body being embarrassed.

Her tears were making him feel worse so he put his arms around her and tried to kiss them away, tucking the stray, rebellious strands of blonde hair behind her ears. 'Don't cry for me, sweetheart. I ain't worth it.' But she didn't stop.

'How?' She repeated, sobbing. '

'His belt and cigarettes mainly. Sometimes he cut me there with his Swiss army knife but not very often.' And he had a couple of long scars from where his father had cut him crisscrossing his back. Daryl replied like he was giving an old weather forecast he'd heard on the radio from another life as his mouth twisted into a bitter, sarcastic smile.

Now would come the real test – if she would touch him, even with his scars or would she turn around and be disgusted?

Oh my God!' she gasped and pushed his arms away, still crying. 'I can't deal with this.' 'I'm sorry and I promise I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. But I can't.' And she leapt up and left him without looking back. As if he was the devil. As if she couldn't get out of there fast enough.

He didn't bother trying to go after her and he didn't blame her for running away from him as fast as she could. He really didn't. Probably it was for the best.

He looked at his back using the long mirror on the wardrobe and a large hand-mirror he'd found. Had never guessed that cons were so vain – maybe they liked to compare battle-scars too. But he'd never looked at his back for years – couldn't bear to. Examined the thickened whitish and faded pink raised ropes of scar tissue.

Yet his brother had touched him there - when he'd stroked his back through his thin shirt, of course. And he must have felt them. Had known they were there.

She was right – he was hideous although she hadn't said it and no woman would ever be able to touch him. His scars were disgusting – sick fuck knew what he was doing when he made them. Made sure that his punishment for being bad would always be seen by others and they would know just how ugly and worthless he really was.

But he remembered Carol's reaction – she'd given a little gasp and then asked him about them but her eyes hadn't been filled with pity or horror. Just recognition and understanding. Like his back had confirmed something she had suspected all along. And most importantly - she hadn't cried for him.

Merle was right – Beth was too young – he should never have allowed her in his bed in the first place – was only ever going to cause trouble. And what if she told everyone, despite her promise? How hideous and ugly he was. How his father saw fit to punish him because he was bad. He couldn't stand to see the same looks in the others' eyes. Them knowing that he was once weak and vulnerable, had allowed his father to cut him and whip him. And do worse but thankfully they didn't know about that, he thought with a shudder.

What if her father and Rick found out that he'd been messing around with a barely legal teenage girl? And he was nearly 40! But maybe the old rules no longer applied. Human beings were a rare commodity these days. People were getting together who in another life would never have said 2 words to each other.

Beth was far too young and too inexperienced – in life, hell, the way she described her childhood, he'd never heard Herschel so much as raise his voice to her or Maggie. Certainly never hit her, he intuited. What he would have done to have a father like him or Dale who were always calling him son. Merle and him could have had a chance – neither of them were stupid. Could have been someone one day with different parents.

Hey – but life was a lottery – sometimes you got the winning ticket and other times, you got dealt shit. Just had to deal with what ya got. But now of the course the playing field had been levelled for people like him and Merle and they, the survivors, the hunters, the warriors had finally come out on top.

Everyone looking at him to protect them, keep them safe. He had a job to do.

Maybe he'd lost Beth but he weren't gonna lose anyone else.


	18. Chapter 18:  The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU- supernatural. I’m enjoying playing round this theme – that the brothers are no ordinary siblings. Part i. is linked to the end of Chapter 7 which explains the dream. This chapter also includes flashbacks to earlier parts of the story – hope this doesn’t confuse anybody! I like experimenting with time-lines.

i.

It was a beautiful mild summer's day and Daryl thought it must be early summer – maybe May or latest, early June as he lay down on the grass. The woods surrounded them and a gentle, warm breeze wavered the grass and made the leaves rustle. The flowers that danced joyfully (did flowers ever feel happy?).

They were in the place where they were safe.

Where they could relax and be themselves without fear of their father's shadow looming over them. When Merle wasn't out robbin' or screwin' around and gettin' high, that was.

But today, Merle was here by his side. His brother was sitting up, crossed-legged, facing him – his blonde hair waving in the breeze. His face handsome and unlined, not yet prematurely ravaged by drugs and bad living like it would become. Looking like a younger version of their father. Prominent, high-cheek bones with a tall, lean body, he looked like the archetypal fierce blue-eyed Viking warrior.

A face to break hearts.

A cloud crossed the sun and Daryl shivered.

'He's coming for ya, little brother. For all of ya, but especially for you, boy. He ain't finished with ya, yeah, he's dreaming of you.' His twenty-something brother drawled and rubbed his hands together as his lips twisted into that familiar, hateful leer. And he licked his lips – all the more grotesque on his youthful features. Because it belonged to someone far more older and jaded. And Daryl trembled involuntarily at the threat implied and his heart was beating like a jack-rabbit in his chest. And of course Merle noticed his reaction. He always knew how his brother was feeling. But Daryl clenched his fists resolutely and stubbornly jutted his jaw out. 'Don't let him get his hands on you again.' His older brother warned him. 'And especially not on Beth or Carol neither.'

The birds stopped suddenly singing and Daryl's ears pricked up. A chill ran through him.

'Told the bastard I'd kill 'im.' he retorted defensively, sitting up suddenly and facing his brother antagonistically.

In the far distance, thunder rolled over the hills, threatening rain and lightning and the brothers looked over at the source of the sound simultaneously. Then looked back at each other. Neither spoke. But the sun continued to pour down its gentle heat onto their bodies.

Still no bird-song.

'Time to keep your promise then, boy. You'd better toughen the fuck up, littl' Darlena. 'Cos I ain't gonna be there no more to protect ya.' When the teenage Daryl looked up at him in blue, wide-eyed abandonment and accusation, Merle quickly added, 'Not 'cos I don't want to. Don't get me wrong, littl' brother'. And he leaned forward to put a reassuring arm around him and Daryl rested his head against his chest. Merle chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly with his other hand. Like he used to when Daryl was very small.

'Why, where ya gonna be? Why can't ya stay and help us?' Daryl looked up anxiously at him suddenly.

'Because I gotta stay here. Ya know I can't leave this place even if I want to. But like I told ya, I'm always gonna be here for ya, jus' waitin' for you here in our place. Ya knew that, you just didn't want to admit it. Don't worry, you'll make the right choice when the time comes.' And it seemed to Daryl his brother was fading, blurring at the edges and the weight of his arm around him was suddenly gone, despite his words that he couldn't leave. And Daryl grabbed for him but his hands only met with thin air. 'Merle!' he cried in vain, 'Come back!' And as his presence faded, he sensed another, darker one come into ascendance in its place. One that was blocking out the sun, as it began to turn early afternoon swiftly into dusk. But not before he felt his brother press something into his hand before he was gone. As the details of individual trees in his peripheral vision were becoming less distinct and merging into one and the vivid green of the grass was fading. But the joining trees seemed to whisper to him, through the rustle of their leaves. And he couldn't hear the words but he caught their urgent sense – 'Go! Go – get out of here! Now!'

Of course, the trees were on his side – he loved the forest, would it be so absurd to imagine that it loved him too in return?

Like a photo losing its focus, getting blurry. Felt the darkness coming over the land and with it some terrifying threat, worse than the Walkers, worse even than Randal's crew when they'd finally attacked. He felt its malevolent intent yet memerising pull – he didn't want to leave after all– he wanted to stay didn't he? However, with a final push of effort and his own will, he made himself leave. Couldn't even see the white flowers any more standing out from the green grass and glowing white as his head began to spin and he felt himself leaving, the old familiar sensation of being torn apart but with no pain and…

Woke up with a thump, found himself drenched in sweat and legs tangled up in thin, scratchy prison blankets, in a bundle on the hard, stone floor.

Alone.

Fuckin' dumbass. He'd fallen out of bed.

'Merle!' he had cried out loudly as the last of the dream left him, 'Don't leave me!' Before he remembered where he was and that his brother was dead. Seemed like he'd just left in time - if he believed in such things. Then, immediately the grief was slamming into him hard and fast in waves before he could get his emotions back under control. Refusing to let the hot tears fall or the threatening sobs rise from his chest, he pushed them back down until he eventually stopped shaking.

'Cos Dixons don't cry. Don't be such a fuckin' littl' pussy.

Are ya gonna make me save ya sorry ass again?

Then he heard light footsteps running outside his door but whoever it was too timid to come in. Carol knocked lightly on the door without popping her head around – she knew better than to intrude on his grief. He was likely to lash out, state he was in.

Not like Beth who would have just burst in once-upon-a-time without knocking first. Would have just leapt on top of him and barrelled him over without warning, probably. With kisses raining down on his face. And a knife twisted in his chest at her absence.

'Daryl – I heard you shouting in your sleep. Are you OK?'

'Fine. Go back to bed. Sorry if I woke you up.' He answered her more gruffly than he meant to. Heard her footsteps as she went away without another word – he knew that she would be hurt because he wouldn't let her in but he couldn't deal with her as well as his grief.

Needed time by himself to deal with it on his own. Ain't no-one who could make it better.

Couldn't deal with another person asking him for something that he couldn't give. He just didn't have the energy. Maybe later.

But he'd forgotten something he realised as he unclenched his fist and looked what his brother had given to him. Something that made him finally give in to the grief crushing his chest.

He let it fall gently to the floor, as he sobbed quietly, an uncrushed, unwithered white flower with a golden centre at its heart. Merle had given him the flower that he had always taunted Daryl for sniffing - the Cherokee rose. Called him a 'Sissy' or a 'Pansy flower lover'. Had threatened to tell their father just to make Daryl tremble.

But he never had.

Daryl dried his eyes eventually and didn't question how his dead brother had given him the flower in dream or how he'd got it in the middle of winter. Or how he could be 14 and together with him when Merle had left when he was 10. Dreams often didn't make sense. But had Daryl himself picked up the flower somewhere and kept it somehow and forgotten about it? Carried it into bed with him as comfort? But he didn't remember.

But then he did recall the last words his brother had whispered to him in the dream – 'Remember.'

'Remember what?'

Was he going crazy?

He got back into bed, picking up the blankets from the floor. Stretching and yawning after placing the rose carefully on his bedside table. Made him think when he'd given the same rose to Carol to comfort her. But her daughter had never come back.

Merle never knew about that – he was sure but now he was doing the same thing for Daryl? What did it mean? What was he supposed to remember?

He made a grab for it, was going to rip it up, wanted to destroy it in a sudden fit of rage because he didn't believe in that superstitious shit. Sounded like some story his Mama would have told him, back when she used to tell him bedtime stories. But something stopped his hand in mid-air.

Fuck Merle. Fuck him for leaving him. For taking Michonne, for taking on the Governor by himself. Had he thought he could really win, alone?

The fuckin' arrogance. Always thinking no one could touch him.

'You can't do it alone, brother. Not anymore.'

One of the last things Daryl had said to him.

Had reached out to touch his shoulder, seeking to make a connection but Merle had got all embarrassed and shrugged it off. Then he'd left and Daryl had been too late to save him.

Made him remember the last major threat of Randall's crew when Merle was still alive. After Beth had run out on him.

He remembered the way she'd been the next morning at breakfast. Couldn't meet his eyes when he'd mumbled 'Mornin' at her when he'd rather have avoided her. But he couldn't in front of the others. Knew she felt guilty but it didn't help him when he remembered how she'd run away from him.

Unable to deal with his past, his shame.

If other people couldn't, how was he supposed to be able to?

Had run out on him like all the others.

He hoped none of the others noticed the sudden coldness between them – probably not, they were busy preparing for Randall's people's attack any time.

He didn't have the patience to deal with her – a teenage girl.

His fault for messing with what he shouldn't have. Should'ave kicked her out of his bed the first time she'd slipped into it.

ii.

They'd been preparing all day for the imminent attack, some people like Maggie and Shane still doubted Daryl's information – he could see in their eyes when they looked at him. Thought they were wasting their time – he heard their grumbles.

But they still obeyed Rick's orders.

Like before when Daryl had insisted on searching for Sophia. After three days of useless tracking and searching, cutting up stinking dead Walkers to examine their stomach contents, the others wanted to give up. He'd listened to them bitch about what a waste of time it was – especially Shane who went on and on about how she was dead for sure and they shouldn't risk their lives any longer for a dead girl. She'd gone and that was it! Everybody should look out for themselves!That they had to conserve their resources and their strength for the good of the group!

Heartless bastard.

Wouldn't even look for a lost child – Daryl remembered how when he'd missing for more than a week as a boy, had been with his grandfather but hadn't known known it then and no one had even noticed he'd been gone. Daryl didn't like Shane – later on he would be sure that he'd killed Randall – OK, he wasn't crying over that worthless piece of shit but Shane had lied to everyone about it. He was sure. And he'd murdered Otis – sacrificed him to save his own worthless hide and then lied about it. Because why did he still have Otis's gun? But nobody else seemed to be suspicious – except Dale who also didn't like the big, brash man either. And Daryl had been hurt by another big, brash man when he was young.

Hurt badly.

Yeah – Dale was smarter than he looked. And Rick had swallowed Shane's lies – couldn't see through him or refused to see. Daryl wasn't sure which. Rick was blinkered to trust that snake in the grass. Despite the show of fraternal camaraderie that they put on for the rest of the group, Daryl could see the men circling each other, like two cobras preparing to strike. Daryl hoped that when Shane finally struck and bit Rick, the leader would be ready for him and bite back. It was clear to Daryl that Rick wasn't happy with his position of second-in-command. And that he wanted Lori back who he had stolen from his 'best friend'. Anyone with two eyes could see what had been going on between Shane and Lori, everyone that is apart from Rick who didn't want to see. No, Daryl guessed that there would be a reckoning of sorts between the two where Rick would fight to keep what was his and Shane would try to take back what he had stolen from him. Wouldn't put it past him to shoot Rick in an ooh –so 'tragic' hunting accident. I couldn't see through the trees – I thought he was a Walker! Yeah, right. Kill his best friend who could never see past their shared childhood where they had grown up together like brothers. And Daryl liked Rick – respected the calm leader who always tried to do right by everybody. However, the irony of the parallel between him and Merle, who were actually brothers, escaped Daryl.

Hell, he thought – it might even be interesting to hang round to see who won out. If it was Shane, Daryl decided he would probably leave, even it meant leaving Carol. He wouldn't want to stay with that asshole in charge. He'd seen him drunk after the celebration dinner at that medical facility (their happiness there with that crazy-ass doctor who'd tried to kill them had been very short-lived) getting rough with Lori. He'd been walking down the corridor to his own room when he'd heard raised voices and heard her, distressed, telling him to stop – and poked his head inconspicuously around the slightly open door. Neither had noticed him, they'd been too intent on each other. He'd been about to rush in and punch the arrogant prick's lights out (it was a good excuse to do what he had always wanted to do) but then she'd managed to fight him off. So, he'd left and turned down the corridor before one of them saw him. Daryl hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself anyway – he had only just arrived. But he would have done. Hell, his brother did that enough for the two of them and not the good sort of regard neither. Daryl didn't want other people tarring him with the same brush as his racist, redneck brother. He was still figuring out whether he even wanted to stay with these people – he didn't need them. Except Carol. He had needed her and Sophia if he ever found her. And the rest of the group's squabbles and problems weren't any of his business anyway.

Back then, he hadn't cared about them but now he'd lost the only family he had left – his brother.

iii.

Later that day, with still no sign of Randall's men approaching, he'd bumped into Beth again in the kitchen. Lori wasn't there to take his daily offerings of 2 braces of half a dozen squirrels for dinner. So he had to give them to her and they were alone.

'I'm sorry I ran away from you.' She'd whispered, meeting his eyes for the first time. Afraid that someone would find out their secret. 'It was just the shock.' And he saw the pity, the guilt in her eyes. He couldn't stand to see either.

'Sorry for what? I don't need ya fuckin' sorries or ya pity.' he hissed in her face, trying to keep the anger out of his voice but failing. 'Carol and Merle were right, ya too young.' He snarled ferally at her but to himself, he muttered, 'Should never have got mixed up with a kid.' Then turning back to her, he told her, 'From now on, ya stay away from me, ya hear? Don't want the the others to get the wrong idea about us.'

She flinched away from on the other side of the table but hissed back, 'I'm nearly 18!', as the tears fell from her eyes. Dripping down onto the wooden table. As she slammed down the dead animals he'd given her to cook and ran out of the kitchen. He was just thinking about whether he should go after her – shit - he could never stand the sight of her tears, all anger already forgotten even though Merle would have said that he was weak for letting himself be pussy whipped. But then Lori came in at the moment and gave Daryl a filthy look. 'What did you say to her?' She scowled at him. 'Have you been upsetting her?' But she didn't go after Beth either, just stood where she was, hands on her hips, glaring at him.

'What's it got to do with ya, ya stupid bitch?' Daryl yelled at her and she didn't flinch. Never got scared like Carol or Beth – not her, not Queen Fuckin' Bee. 'Cos that bitch had never liked him, was always looking down her nose at him like he was so much dirt under her shoe. Was always ordering everyone around. And he'd just had enough of all of them. 'I know about ya and Shane when Rick was away.'

Lori didn't say anything but went red, probably scared that the others would hear. Then she slapped him hard across the face. Not caring that she had thought he was the just the kind of man to hit her back. But he didn't, just clenched his fists at his sides. 'I don't have to explain anythin' to you but I thought he was dead!'

'Yeah and you were so upset that ya waited a real long time before ya opened your legs for Shane.' He retorted. 'Get out of my way, ya fuckin' bitch.' He snarled and then rudely pushed past her before he turned round on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen.

'Ya finished here, Dixon!' She yelled after him.


	19. Chapter19: Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about the grim days before Randall’s people’s attack. Who is going to survive and who is going to die? Will Beth and Daryl get back together or maybe something happens to stop them?  
> Some references to consensual sex, perhaps between two unexpected characters.(I don’t have a lot of experience of writing about this subject - hope that it is realistic.)

The third day dawned and still no sign of the enemy. Rick sighed - the waiting would be far worse than the attack when it happened.

He turned to Daryl, Shane and Herschel. 'We gotta do something', be proactive. We're sittin' ducks.

Daryl's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, looked round the circle of men. 'Then, let's not be. I say let's take out these dumb fucks, if they're anythin' like Randall. I say we scout them out where their camp is. Probably waitin' to ambush us at night. Must be in the hills somewhere.' he jerked his head back.

Rick nodded and Shane glared at Daryl. 'Why does he get to say what we do?' He asked the leader antagonistically. And Daryl glared back, just as balefully.

'Back off, Shane.' Rick answered calmly. Looking at both of them. 'I know you boys have your differences but this is life and death and the safety of the group we're talking about…'

'Fine, fine.' Shane said but he still eyed Daryl coldly. Sending him a silent message. We're not done yet. And Daryl eyed him just as balefully back. Do I give a fuck? This silent exchange went unseen or deliberately ignored by the ex-Sheriff.

'Right.' Rick said finally. 'I'm going to send out a scouting party but some of us have to stay here in the prison and protect the group. He looked over at the Dixon. 'Daryl, you're with me where your tracking skills are needed most. Shane - you stay here with Herschel and Dale and protect the group in case Randall's people attack us at night.'

And Shane opened his mouth to protest - it didn't escape him that he was being excluded again in favour of the upstart redneck but decided to keep his mouth shut. It didn't escape him how Rick looked at Daryl - with new-found trust and respect and he felt a stab of jealousy. And some other emotion that Shane was at loss to identify.

Of course, his best friend had never looked at him in the same way again after he'd found out about him and Lori. Wasn't grateful to Shane for keeping her and Carl safe - the boy he'd loved like his own - it was just the keeping safe bit that had got out of hand and turned into something else. What with the Walkers and constant threat of death hanging over them.

And anyway, they'd thought Rick was dead.

Rick should have been grateful to him.

Shane silently nursed his grudge and bided his time until he could get rid of the redneck once and for all.

Him and his racist piece of white trash brother both.

Rick and Daryl made their way into the hills just like they'd done a year ago when they'd been looking for one lost little girl.

They didn't speak as they scouted the hills with Daryl leading the way. The younger Dixon, unlike his brother, was never much of a talker anyway but every now and then he would signal silently to his companion. He was trying to follow tracks - looking at marks in the barks of trees or trampled undergrowth but he couldn't find any and it was getting dark. And Rick was tempted to ask him to try to use his gift but Daryl had said that he couldn't always go walking when he wanted to. And he never suggested it himself.

Every now and then they would bump into a lone Walker or a small group of them, in various stages of decomposition but easily dealt with and they would put them out of its misery.

'It's too late to turn back and maybe there'll be herds of those things out there.' Rick said finally.

'I don't know about that, we haven't seen many. And this area ain't very populated.'

'Yeah - but you know how they get more active at night.'

'OK. Let's find somewhere to bunk down for the night. I think I know where there's an old hunting lodge. About a mile from here.'

'Right then. I'll follow you.' Rick said.

'Do you think they'll be OK without us (Daryl meant with Shane)?' He was worrying about Beth and Carol, knew his brother could take care of himself.

'I'm sure they'll be fine. Shane was protecting the group before I found them again.'

'OK.' Daryl replied thoughtfully, not sounding terribly convinced. Anyway, it was getting cold and he was beginning to shiver as he took out his colourful poncho from his bag. Rick did the same, pulling his sweater on. They grinned at each other for having the same idea simultaneously.

'Come on.' Daryl urged, touching his shoulder.

After about an hour of walking - Daryl said that maybe the lodge was a little further than he remembered, they pushed open the door and gasped at the musty smell.

'Better than nothin'. Daryl muttered, wrinkling his nose. Remembering when he'd stayed in a similar place when he'd got lost as a young boy.

Luckily there were no corpses of the owners - half-eaten or otherwise. In the early days of the plague, people had killed themselves rather than be devoured by their neighbours. Of course, this place was pretty isolated.

But there was a bed - just one and a fireplace with a few mouldy logs on it. Daryl took out his hunting knife and sawed at the end of them, until they had firewood that would burn. He got the fire burning while Rick scouted the place for Walkers- in the tiny kitchen, the closet and the outhouse.

'Ain't no-one there. We're safe.' He announced. Daryl had even found a couple of tins of beans in the small larder and they cooked these and ate them gratefully. Because they hadn't planned to stay overnight - had thought that they would have found Randall's crew and be able to report back by nightfall.

'Will they be worrying about us?' Daryl asked when they'd satisfied their hunger. Eating their full didn't take much these days.

'Hope not. I told them we didn't know how long it would take but that we'd be back as soon as we can. Maybe take some of them out if we could.'

'OK.' Daryl answered. 'Lookee, what I found.' He held up a dark bottle of rum that he'd discovered in an old cupboard. It was mostly full.

'Do you think we should?' Rick asked cautiously. 'What if we're attacked in the middle of the night?'

'Then at least we won't care.' Daryl laughed. Then he unscrewed the top and took a big swig. 'Still OK.' He said. 'Dunno 'bout ya but I ain't touched a drop of decent liquor since we left that crazy doctor's place. What I wouldn't do for a joint too right 'bout now.'

'Yeah, you're right.' Rick took the bottle from Daryl and took his own swig. Then stopped. 'No, let's be civilised 'bout this. Go and get two glasses from that cupboard.' And he pointed to it. Daryl rolled his eyes at him but did as he was told.

Later, when the bottle was nearly empty, they lay on the bed together. Rick was drunk and started rambling on about Lori, how he still loved her but he didn't know whose the baby was. How he didn't know how to put things right between them. Wasn't even sure if Lori still loved him back.

Daryl listened carefully but said little. Didn't talk about him and Beth 'cos Dixons don't share.

Anyway, what could he say? Ask Rick for love advice? It was over anyway before it had ever really begun. And Merle was right - probably Rick wouldn't approve. He was like that. Righteous Rick Merle called him.

He was just dozing off, his back turned towards the other man, they're bodies not touching when he felt Rick put his arm round him.

His first instinct was to shake it off and push the other man away.

But it was only a brotherly arm - like Merle.

So he didn't.

Harmless. Anyway, he liked Rick. He didn't shout or yell. And his voice was soft whenever he spoke to Daryl. And Daryl liked that.

So he didn't move.

'I miss her so much.' The other man was saying but he was gently turning Daryl round to face him. 'I don't know what to do.' Rick confided, his voice breaking.

'I love her so much.' He repeated but he leaned forward, his lips moving towards Daryl's until they were almost touching until the Dixon flinched back. But then he let his lips touch Daryl's - a chaste kiss.' But she don't want me back.' Rick said.

But Daryl recoiled, pushed him away.

ii.

'What the fuck?' Daryl yelled. The adrenalin getting rid of the fuzziness in his brain from the drink. As he drew back his fist and punched the leader in the face. Out of panic. Got up from the bed, backed into a corner, swinging his fists, ready to fight if Rick came any nearer.

Rick wiped the blood from his nose but stayed where he was. 'Sorry.' He said. 'Guess I deserved that. Dunno what made me do that. Must be the drink. Can we forget about this? Not tell the others?'

'Like I want them to know. Sure. As long as ya know I ain't interested. I ain't no gay.'

'Neither am I. Things are getting more and more messed up. I mean - between men and women.' Rick explained. 'Men and men, women and women too.'

They fell into an awkward silence. With the largest distance between them on the bed and not facing each other. But Daryl still kept expecting the other man's hands to go wandering again with some weak, mumbled excuse.

All over his body.

But they didn't.

The other man began snoring. Then he looked over - eyeing the other man's lean body through his clothes. Felt an unexpected physical response - down there. After all, they'd all got leaner and muscular - most people had lost their fat reserves from before. When they'd had machines to do all the hard work for them before they had to start hunting and gathering like in the stone ages. Had less food but better food. Of course, they'd gone on looting expeditions to the local stores and supermarkets but it was dangerous with all the Walkers around, especially in the cities and populated areas.

Fuck it - he weren't no homo fag.

But he liked Rick - he really did.

Maybe never admitted to himself exactly how much.

Daryl scooted over to Rick and kissed him on the mouth. Until the other man responded, opening his. Didn't seem disorientated, even when woken from sleep or surprised.

'I ain't no gay.' Daryl whispered shyly and Rick laughed and pulled Daryl's head (and his mouth) closer to his. 'And I don't like other men.'

'Neither do I but I've always wanted to do this since …' Rick began.

'Since ya met me?' Daryl teased, one eye-brow raised.

'Not exactly - since you tried so hard to find Sophia. When we went tracking together. Ya didn't give up (Not like Shane - he heard what Rick didn't say).' And Daryl laughed and kissed him again. This time it was deep, prolonged kiss. And when Rick began to undress him, to take his shirt off, he couldn't help flinching at his rough, calloused hands when they came close to his back.

Even if they were gentle. He'd expected another man to be rougher, more uncaring, not taking it slow and careful like Rick seemed to be doing.

Yet Daryl was trembling and Rick noticed this and his flinches and stopped. 'You want to stop? We don't have to, you know that, don't you?'

'Yeah, I know. Ya think ya could make me do anythin' I didn't want to do? Ya treatin' me like a woman?' And Daryl snarled but then kissed him. A long, deep kiss this time. 'Ya couldn't make me do nothin' I don't want. No-one can.'

'I never...never been with another man before.' Rick confessed but Daryl said nothing in return. And then the Leader ran his hands all over his body, hovering hesitantly over his back before he started touching him more intimately. And Daryl knew that he'd felt his ugly, old scars and knew what they were but he didn't say anything. Didn't ask who'd done that to him. And Rick's eyes didn't show shock or pity, only quiet understanding as he nodded.

Best of all, he didn't start crying like Beth. Or run away from him.

They didn't speak any more that night.

iii.

Merle was the first to see Rick and Daryl and something about the way they were walking together made him narrow his eyes.

Saw Rick sling an arm round Daryl's shoulders and his brother didn't flinch from his hand like he always did when other people touched him but even leaned into his touch.

Something weren't right.

They were talking, moving, like they were close.

Something had happened, he was sure. Couldn't put his finger on it.

But he was gonna drag it out of Daryl later when all this was over.

Later on in the meeting, Merle leaned back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. Outwardly, not caring about the fate of the group but listening intently to Rick and his brother reporting back.

Watching them together closely.

'We found their camp on the third morning.' Rick was saying 'And we launched a surprise attack at dawn. They were mostly out for the count, been drinking it up with beer and whiskey all night before. We took 10 of them out between us, thanks mainly to Daryl and his crossbow and got away without a scratch.' He nodded over to the Hunter and smiled admiringly at him.

Merle watched them suspiciously. Their prolonged eye-contact didn't escape him as they looked deep into each other's eyes but no-one else seemed to notice. Too busy bleating like scared sheep, waiting for the wolves to come down from the mountains and attack their pen.

Pick them off one by one.

Fuckin' stupid sheep waitin' to be slaughtered.

He despised them all and in that moment, hoped that the enemy would come and kill them so that he could have Daryl all to himself again.

'Cos Daryl was his.

'There's still 20 of them out there.' Herschel said. 'And they got weapons, ammo.'

'Do they know about us?' Glenn asked.

Daryl nodded. 'Yep. They know about the prison people and they want to kill us and take it for themselves. Randall's friends got away, remember?'

'They could even be in with the Governor.' Dale added shrewdly. 'Maybe he even gave them their weapons and ammo. Despite our temporary truce.'

'But you killed 10 of them. Maybe they'll get the message and leave us alone.' Beth piped up naively but addressed Rick, not at Daryl.

Rick was about to explain but then Daryl turned on her instead. 'Ya really think they're not gonna wanna come here and take revenge after we killed their people? Grow up!' He snapped at her more harshly than he intended and she recoiled while Herschel and Maggie glared at him.

Everyone staring at him, shocked.

Daryl shook his head wearily but didn't apologise. Glanced around. 'It's been a long day.'

'Don't you speak to her like that ever again.' Her father warned Daryl and made a threatening step towards him.

'Yeah, baby brother. Don't talk to her like that.' Merle mimicked sarcastically, as a sly little smile played round his lips while his eyes mocked them.

'Now, let's all calm down.' Rick said. 'It's been a long day for everybody and we're all under stress and we still need to be prepared. For when not if they come here.'

After everyone had left and sentries had been placed around the inner perimeter to warn of the impending attack, most people left to get as much sleep as they could.

iv

Merle finally cornered him outside alone where he was smoking and drinking a precious beer that they'd given him in celebration of his and Rick's small victory. He was doing extra sentry duty although it wasn't his turn because he was too wound up to sleep. And he'd rather see the enemy coming at him before it got there. It was getting chilly and he drew his poncho in closer around him.

Like it didn't matter that they might not win the war, even though they'd won a minor battle.

'Well, well, little brother, looks like you and Rick are the heroes of the hour even if don't matter tomorrow or the next day or the day after that when they come and slaughter us all. Yeah, let's just stay and be killed with them. Sacrifice ourselves for them when they ain't even our blood or kin.

Daryl sighed wearily and got up to go. 'What do you want, Merle?'

His brother strode over to him and grabbed him by the throat. Shoved him angrily against the perimeter fence while Daryl struggled and dropped his cigarette to the ground.

Merle got straight down to business. 'I wanna know what happened with you and Righteous Rick the Prick.'

'Don't call him that!' Daryl fought and finally got free of his brother.

'Ooh, you defending his honour, little brother?' Merle taunted. 'I see you and your sweet littl' girlfriend are having problems. And I seen the way he looks at you. Ya all chummy now with the leader?'

'Ain't none of ya business, Merle! Keep ya voice down!'

'Tell me, little brother, what happened with Rick when you were all alone together.' Merle's tone was soft, inviting confidence.

'Nothin'. Daryl muttered and looked down at the ground. He hated it how his brother knew everything about him. How he could have no secrets from Merle.

Like he could read his fuckin' mind.

Always could. Which he could.

'Don't lie to me, little brother.'

'What's it got to do with ya who I fuck?' Daryl hissed in rage at him. Then realised that he'd given himself away. 'Stay out of my business, ya hear? Jus' 'cos you can't get any.' He sneered and enraged, Merle got hold of his brother and slammed him once - twice against the metal fence. While he cowered back.

'Did he force ya? Hurt ya?' He hissed. 'Cos he must have done 'cos there's no other way. 'Cos no brother of mine is a fuckin' fag.' Merle shook him. 'And I'm gonna kill him for this, torture him slowly before I do, for a long, long, time.'

'Leave him alone! He didn't make me do nothin'! 'Sides, I can take care of myself! We just had too much to drink - we agreed it was a mistake - things got out of hand - it ain't never gonna happen again!'

'He must have done. What did he make you do? Did he make you suck his dick first?'

'Fuck off, Merle. You don't know nothin'. I ain't gay. Was jus' a fuck was all. Didn't mean anythin'. Jus' a couple of drunk guys, bored. Don't tell me you didn't do the same when you were stuck in prison.'

'That ain't the same!' Merle roared. 'I didn't have no choice! There weren't any women!' Enraged, he tried to punch his brother but Daryl was expecting this and dodged the blow. Then punched Merle hard in the stomach.

Leave me alone!' He growled at him. 'Ain't got nothin' to do with ya.'

His older brother gasped and sucked in his gut as he fell to the ground winded. But changed tactic when he realised that he couldn't bully his younger brother anymore. 'I understand.' He gasped placatingly as he got up and brushed himself off. 'I really do. It ain't ya fault. It's 'cos of the sick shit he did to you when you were jus' a kid, it would screw anybody up. Make them think they were one way that they weren't…' Merle reached out to touch his brother's hair but he backed away.

'Shut the fuck up! Why does it always have to come back to our fuckin' Daddy? He ain't got nothin' to do with it. And he's fuckin' dead besides! And I ain't gay anyway, neither is Rick. And ya better keep ya mouth shut, not stir up trouble. I mean it this time, Merle.'

Why did everyone - especially his brother and Rick - act like he was made of glass? Yet they expected him to save them, protect them.

Treating him like he couldn't make his own decisions?

Treating him like he was so damn vulnerable?


	20. Chapter 20  ‘Cos we can never get back time we lost. Daryl/...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do Daryl and Beth finally make up? Will Merle confront Rick about Daryl? Sorry, I teased in you in the last chapter with this question but didn’t answer it. Anyway, here’s some more consensual sex, but between who? It’s quite explicit, so please don’t read if it will offend you. I hope that it is realistic – I don’t usually write about this subject.

The tedious business of watching and waiting went on after Daryl strode angrily away from his post. Driven away by Merle who had guessed the shameful truth.  
Why shameful? Why did he feel so ashamed? They hadn’t hurt anyone. Rick and Lori were good as separated – the Leader couldn’t even look his wife in the eye and he’d broken up with Beth.  
He was jus’ drunk, was all, was experimentin’, didn’t mean he was that way.  
But somehow his brother knew.  
Like he always did. And Daryl had to stop him from going after Rick.  
Because Merle thought that Rick had hurt him, taken advantage of him, like he wasn’t a fully grown man capable of defending himself against another.  
Or of saying No.  
But Daryl knew that it was guilt. Merle seeing every man as a potential threat to his younger brother.  
Treating him more like he was his kid sister than a kid brother. Overprotective and jealous.  
But it had been good with Rick, better than he had expected but it weren’t ever gonna happen again.  
He didn’t have to stay up for these people – it was his turn to rest and he’d done more than his fair share for them.  
But he had wanted to.  
Daryl’s thoughts turned to his ex- girlfriend’s face when he’d yelled at her during the meeting.  
Couldn’t help it –just came out. And he hadn’t meant to lash out at her sometimes he forgot how young she really was. And Merle had been there – laughing at both of them with that gloating, knowing sneer. And Daryl had wanted to punch his lights out then and there just to wipe it off his face.  
And no-one had even given him a break just because he was young.  
He sighed. She would never forgive him now she was probably scared of him.  
And who could blame her?  
He couldn’t always control his temper, had rage stored up enough for a lifetime, had a sharp tongue in his head but that didn’t mean he was like his father.  
He would never hurt her. Well, not physically anyway.  
He hated violence, avoided it if he could but that didn’t mean he was afraid to use it. Merle had always called him a littl' bitch and laughed at him for that. He’d always revelled in it – dragging Daryl along for the ride when they’d been reunited again.  
Of course he made some exceptions- for scum like Randall of course.  
And sick fucks like the Governor.  
Later that night – he’d eventually gone to bed but couldn’t sleep. Too wound up, his bed felt empty when he’d heard the light patter of feminine footsteps outside his door. And her knock at his cell-door.  
‘Daryl...’ she called quietly, hesitantly. Expecting him to curse her, send her on her way.  
‘Beth..?’ He answered hopefully, just as hesitantly. All rage gone out of his voice.  
‘Can..I ...Can I come in?’ She asked. ‘Do you still hate me? I missed you.’  
‘Me...me too.’ He confessed as she poked her head around and tip-toed quietly in. He lowered his eyes shyly and looked back at her, like he couldn’t believe that she was really there, that she had come back to him. In that same damn transparent peignoir where he could see nearly everything again. Kid was trying to seduce him again. He looked at her like she was some sweet apparition while she hung back shyly as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.  
He made the first move by getting up and gathering her in his arms. She clung to him and pressed her body against his. Kid was willing. And he kissed her hair before his lips found the way to her mouth. Then he lifted her up so that her feet left the ground and swung her round in circles joyfully. While she giggled.  
‘Why did ya come back to me when I was such a fuckin’ asshole to ya?’ He gasped when they took a break to breathe.  
‘I don’t know.’ She replied, tossing her blond mane behind her. ‘Cos ya such a grumpy old man.’ She joked, punching him lightly on the arm and he laughed with her.  
‘No, I knew you were angry with me.’ She replied, serious all of a sudden. ‘I ran away from you. When you showed me...No wonder you hated me.’  
‘That don’t matter now.’ He picked her up and laid her down gently on the bed. Started to touch her breasts, the place between her legs, felt the moisture already there. She arched her back in pleasure.  
He pulled up her gown and kissed her down there – she wasn’t wearing any underwear – same as last time. A normal kiss with his lips then slipped his tongue in without warning. He saw her eyes widen in surprise and then she moaned.  
He used his tongue on her and she looked at him and he saw in her shining eyes that she wanted him...it... as much as he did.  
Then he suddenly withdrew – knowing that she wanted more.  
Teasing her as she moaned in frustration and pulled his mouth down again to between her thighs.  
But he resisted – pulled himself up to face her.  
‘Don’t stop.’ She begged.  
She wondered how he could be so good at giving pleasure when she’d guessed he didn’t have much experience.  
But he had to make sure. He weren’t no brute like his Daddy – he weren’t gonna do no forcing, no punching or kicking. Taking without giving pleasure.  
No hurting.  
‘Ya forgive me for being such a bastard to ya? For yelling at ya? In the kitchen, in the meeting?’  
‘Yes!’ She said impatiently and pulled his head, his lips down to his and kissed him furiously, deeply, as her answer.  
And if he’d had a doubt, she took off her thin peignoir, showing him her breasts and her perfectly flat stomach. Her softly rounded hips and plump, youthful skin. He ran his hands gently over her body and he felt his desire stirring. But then she pushed him off her and moved so that she was the one on top.  
He let her do whatever she wanted.  
‘I like it better this way.’ She explained and began to slowly undress him.  
And he flinched like always when her hands brushed his scars but she didn’t take any notice. Could never seem to be able to control his body’s reactions. But she wasn’t shocked or surprised like the first time.  
Didn’t look up at him with those big, blue eyes filled with pity.  
Treated him like a man, a normal man that she wanted.  
A desirable man. Not someone scarred, broken, damaged.  
She pulled off his pyjama trousers then straddled him in her haste. ‘Now, where were we last time?’ She breathed before she started to moan and as his hips began to buck, thrusting into her.  
They found their rhythm and he grunted. Reaching up to touch her breasts hesitantly.  
Playing with her nipples. He knew that it increased her excitement.  
Holding back, as gently as he could when he felt like he was going to explode any minute.  
Managing to climax more or less at the same time. She couldn’t hold back her scream as he covered her mouth with his hand.  
Hoping to God no-one had heard them.  
He rolled off her and put his arm around her. Held her until they could get their breath back.  
‘Again?’ He asked her after a while.  
He saw the answer shining in her eyes as they started over again...again...and again...


	21. Chapter 21: Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21 Dilemma
> 
> Hi- I've been too busy to update recently. Also, I've been thinking about how the story is going to develop with the two threats – Randal's crew and the Governor - looming over the prison community. I've mixed up the timeline – hope this is OK. Last chapter was kind of an experiment – I don't usually write love scenes in detail but hope that it was realistic. 
> 
> In this chapter - Daryl has a devastating dilemma before him- will he make the right choice?

i.

They'd just come together urgently for what felt like the umpteenth time – but they could never get enough of each other with the sense of time running out before the inevitable attack looming over them. And each time seemed better and more precious than the last – as they mapped out each other's bodies with more intimate knowledge.

Giving and receiving pleasure. Learning each other's pleasure-zones.

Finally sated, still panting and bathed in sweat, they lay in the semi-darkness, only relieved by the obligatory emergency lights outside his cell, lighting the outside corridor while the generator fuel lasted.

After he slid out of her that last time, he lay with his ear against her racing heartbeat, listening while they tried to get their breath back as she giggled breathlessly and cradled him against her with both arms. He sighed contently and smiled while she played with his hair – running her fingers through it. The elated mood of the lovers was at odds with the oppressive sense of doom – all over the prison – coming from the others who were glum and terrified.

'Maybe we should sleep...' He murmered, his eyes shutting of their own free will. It was about 4 in the morning after all. 'We'll need it tomorrow...'

'No.' She whispered vehemently, in mock anger. Slapped his head only lightly, in play. 'Wake up! I ain't finished with you yet, boy!'

He raised his head drowsily and looked up at her. ' Who ya callin' boy? I'm an old man compared to you. You gotta be tired.' He protested sleepily. 'You can't want us...to..again?' Suddenly awake now, he pinned her down gently to the bed by her wrists and bent his head to her hers, to kiss her long and deep.

But then they heard gunshots outside and panicked shouts and running feet and Daryl instinctively covered her with his own body, pulling the bed covers up protectively over them as someone pounded on the door. Then, Glen poked his head round the door, only registering his surprise silently by raising his eye-brows briefly at the naked pair in bed together. At Beth's instantly recognisable blond hair streaming over the pillow as she unsuccessfully tried to hide by burying her face in Daryl's chest. After all, who was sleeping with who wasn't exactly a priority when they were obviously under a surprise pre-dawn attack. 'They're here – Randal's crew!' He gabbled, panic clear in his voice, hanging onto his gun for dear life. 'Get up and get to the front! We have to fight them off!'.

Daryl wasted no time either. 'We're coming!' He shouted back as he started pulling on his clothes after Glenn left to bang on other people's doors.

'Did he know it was me?' She asked, more worried about everyone finding out about them rather than possibly being killed or worse – captured. And Daryl was more worried that Glen had seen his back – 'cos too many people – Carol, Rick, Herschel as well his own brother knew which was bad enough. And he couldn't deal with more knowing.

Surely, Glenn hadn't seen his scars? No, he'd pulled up the cover over both of them and he hadn't seen the usual look of horror and pity that he got from people who caught sight of his back.

Because that would have been worse than him knowing about him and Beth.

Rudely, he pulled the covers off Beth as she instinctively tried to cover herself, even in front of him who'd seen everything there was to see. Cos' at the beginning, she'd flaunted it in front of him, in fact.

And she looked good. Hell – she was roastin' and he shuddered as he remembered what the animals who were part of the same group attacking their gates had wanted to do to her and her sister.

He'd die – no- better – he'd rip them all apart before he let them near her.

But panic and fear made his voice, rough as he glared down at her. While tears came into her eyes after she self-protectively drew the blanket to cover herself again and her full, rosebud lips trembled as she looked up at him as the truth hit her finally. Looking at him with those big eyes. Those big, blue eyes that had been his undoing. And he was reminded again how very young she actually was.

'Are we going to die?' She breathed. Looking at him for the answers. To save her. Like everyone else did.

And he couldn't stand it – the pressure, the responsibility. Weighing him down. Along with the guilt not if but when he failed to protect them.

He resisted the urge to comfort her - Girl was so very young and he could be her father. There wasn't any time anyway.

'Not if I can help it.' He told her coldly and threw her clothes at her. 'Get dressed.' He ordered. And when she didn't move, 'What are you waiting for?' He almost yelled at her. 'Ya waitin' for them? Ya think there's no point 'cos they're just gonna rip ya clothes off ya again?' He added brutally to shock her into reality and the tears finally overflowed and made their way down her cheeks. 'You remember what they nearly did to you and Maggie in the forest? It's the same fuckin' animals.'

But then her back straightened and he was glad to see fire instead of fear in her eyes as he chivalrously turned his back out of habit as she got dressed. (He didn't know why, wasn't like he hadn't seen everything anyway) 'Fuck you, Daryl.' She retorted, her voice full of anger. 'I can fight and not just Walkers, neither. You taught me remember ,after we were captured?'

'He grabbed his crossbow, checked for his dagger and his bolts then grabbed her hand. Not giving a shit who saw – even if it was her father. Ran to the where were the commotion was.

'Come on. Let's put these sick motherfuckers down.' He suggested and she grinned at him and patted her own weapon -a stake made from a pool cue from the recreation room and her own gun and hunting´knife.

'Good.' He approved. 'Now, remember everything we practised.'

She nodded vigorously because she wanted blood. Revenge for her and Maggie. For these people coming to spoil their way of life and disrupt their peace of mind. 'Cos it was hard enough to survive and these people wanted to steal everything they had. Everythin'. The prison which they'd risked their lives for to make it safe from Walkers. Hadn't thought that they might be in danger from fellow human survivors.

More than that – she wanted to prove herself to the rest of the group. As an adult able to protect them. Wanted them to eventually accept her and Daryl, especially her father.

He recalled briefly teaching her and others who wanted to learn how to fire the crossbow, ostensibly putting one arm around her innocently to guide her aim while she stretched her arm at the target. Whispering in her ear – things nothing to do with archery, secrets and promises reserved for lovers for the coming night. And no-one had known as she'd giggled and pressed her body against his. As if by innocent coincidence, her breasts rubbed against his chest when she turned round. He remembered their excitement, anticipation for the coming night which was only heightened by the others' apparent obliviousness to their mutual attraction. Despite the way they couldn't stop touching one another, even in front of the others – especially the change in the man everyone knew hated to be touched.

He guessed everyone was too scared and preoccupied with what was coming to notice them.

Except for one – Merle. His brother always knew – Daryl couldn't keep any secrets from him. He'd just looked at them with a sardonic grin twisting his lips and a knowing smirk but Daryl knew that Merle would not betray them. He didn't like most of the group anyway.

Would always protect him.

Didn't stop him from tormenting his brother though, even in the chaos and general panic, as he saw the pair. 'Well, well, little brother, gone back to batting for the boys' team?' He teased, outwardly completely relaxed and unaffected at what was going round him, indifferent to the screams and gunshots. Daryl glared at him – couldn't believe that Merle was bringing up Rick then when all hell was breaking loose around them. As Beth looked up at him questioningly, not quite understanding. Daryl brushed it off and dragged her to the front gate. 'Shut the fuck up, Merle.' He snarled. 'Can't you see we're being attacked? Why don't you help us?'

But Merle didn't, was waiting to pick the winning side, no doubt.

Never had loyalty to anything or anyone.

Except to Daryl.

ii.

'Time to choose.' The Governor chimed in a creepy parody of a childish sing-song voice. 'Which one, Dixon?' He asked, revelling in his enemy's obvious panic and indecision that he could never hide as Daryl's eyes flicked from Carol to Beth and back to Carol again. 'Which one for Milton?' And Daryl wanted to rush up and stick the point of his dagger through the eyes of the heavies, through to their brains, holding the two women.

For putting their hands all over them, as Beth squirmed in her captor's grip. Of course, it was the heavy Hispanic who had had held him down, who was now sneering at him. Recognition clear in his eyes as he leered at the younger Dixon brother.

Should've fuckin' known that Randal and his people were in league with that psycho – had just handed over the women to him.

Of fuckin' course.

And Daryl had failed to protect the two people he cared most about from the group.

He was useless, a nobody. A nothing who couldn't keep anyone safe.

But Daryl sensed rather than saw his brother guarding his back. As always. Heard him growl menacingly and move forward and he motioned him away without looking back at him. Because despite what people thought and what happened to Maggie, Merle didn't enjoy seeing women being hurt or threatened. 'Cos maybe Merle and Daryl were more alike than most people realised – but then they didn't know that his brother had damn near killed their father for hitting their mother.

Maybe they would have seen him in another light but they would never get the chance unfortunately. Merle just had this habit of rubbing people up the wrong way and Daryl knew he even enjoyed the effect he had on them.

In other words, he just liked fucking with people. It was too easy for him 'cos he had this uncanny ability to smell out their secrets, things they were afraid of and their weaknesses.

Would have made a fuckin' good politician with background and education.

With the right family and connections.

'Go to hell.' He snarled at the Woodbury leader. Ignoring the silent, terrified pleas in Beth's eyes before she had lifted up her chin resolutely in strong defiance. And he felt proud of his girlfriend – she was no longer just the sweet, sheltered farm girl - she'd become a fighter.

Like him – like he'd had to be his whole life.

And Carol's calm resignation. Because she knew that there was nothing that the Governor could do to her that hadn't been done before. Ed had seen to that. And if he killed her – at least she would be with Sophia in heaven. She was telling him silently to choose Beth, who still had her life ahead of her and everything to live for. And besides, Daryl loved her and Carol was willing to sacrifice herself to make Daryl happy.

Because she loved him too.

An old Bible verse came to him then 'Greater love hath no man...'1

And Herschel would never forgive him.

Who should he choose – his best friend who had been the first person to try and see past his rough, redneck exterior, to reach out to him? The first person who had made him feel safe or a teenage girl who was his lover?

'We don't negotiate with assholes..' Daryl declared defiantly to the enemy. But his eyes betrayed him – the grief and the fear in them for the people he loved. Yes – he realised that he loved these people. The panic. Where was Rick? Herschel? The others? He prayed that the ex-Sheriff hadn't been killed or captured. He couldn't deal with the Governor by himself – not without the calm leader. He couldn't decide for the group but they were looking at him to decide their fates.

'Give us both women and you can have Milton back.'

'I'm afraid that won't be possible.' The other replied, calmly, reasonably.

'Both or nothin...Ya'll get nothin.' We'll slit his fuckin' throat.' He moved to where Milton was bound and gagged, held up his knife to the man's throat as the prisoner struggled against T-Dog.

He was gambling – playing with Beth and Carol's lives – counting on Milton's usefulness to the Governor as a scientist, as a researcher on Walkers.

Everyone stared at Daryl like he was crazy. What are you doing? Knowing that he was fully capable of carrying out his threat.

The Governor seemed to reconsider. Outwardly, not showing any concern.

'No. You kill him and we'll kill them. But only after we've had a little show with them as the main stars in it.'

Both the women trembled as their eyes got bigger and Daryl understood.

And Daryl knew that the other would keep one woman hostage – maybe play with her a bit but then they could always attempt a rescue later.

He just hoped that he didn't hurt her too badly.

But at least she'd be alive.

There was no-one left except him, T-Dog and Glenn. Looking up to him to make the decision. Because Rick had already said that this was not a democracy – and that left him as the de-facto leader. The others would go along with whatever he decided.

They couldn't help him. Weren't no leaders either.

But he wasn't anybody's leader Just a nobody, a no-one, a nothing.

He was filthy inside. Damaged and ugly on the outside.

The Governor had known and had taunted him with it. Daryl could see it still in his eyes, his sneer.

I know your secret.

And that's what finally galvanised him into a decision.

He released Milton, even so, the man's throat was bleeding where Daryl had held the knife against it. Then he roughly pushed the man forward – to the neutral buffer zone between the two groups.

'Take him.' Daryl gave in knowing that the exchange – one prisoner for the other – would have to be carried out at exactly the same time.

Then he made his decision. Stopped where he was and straightened his back. Looked the Woodbury leader full in the eye.

'I want...'

1'No greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' (John 15: 13)


	22. Chapter 22: Dilemma Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22 : Dilemma Continued 
> 
> I bet you think that it is pretty obvious who Daryl chooses but you might be surprised...  
> More insight into how Woodbury works, some POV on other characters
> 
> How is Daryl going to rescue the hostage? Where's Rick?

The Governor laughed and clapped merrily like he'd been surprised by an unpredicted but still foolish move by his opponent in a board game they were playing. And on cue, all his people grinned and clapped with him. But his mirth didn't reach his cold eyes – they were the colour of the ocean on an overcast day.

Checkmate.

He would use the female prisoner as bait. He looked forward to getting the redneck in his interrogation cell again. Had fun times planned with him.

It was a game to him – everything was – survival- even his own. Since his wife had died and Penny had been infected, nothing seemed to matter any more.

All that was left was power and pleasure and pleasure in pain.

Because he knew, deep down, that Penny had died too but only her body remained – falling apart more day by day.

Like his mind, like the last shreds of his humanity dying along with her. Only his daughter reminded him that once, he hadn't always been like this.

Had been a decent man once. Hadn't got him anywhere – his wife had cheated on him and everyone had known, had laughed at him for being a cuckold. His 'boss' who had really been his business partner had treated him like his own personal doormat, too.

And he'd let him.

Because people didn't respect goodness, they only respected power and fear.

Now they looked up to him, now they were afraid of him.

But his daughter was merely an animated corpse and he still couldn't admit it to himself. Still had to keep on believing that the bumbling fool Milton would eventually find a cure.

So he'd let the dumb redneck have one woman back in exchange for the scientist. Keeping one back as a hostage.

Exchanged prisoners with that young, rough, tough and lean piece of white trash, scarred up by his bad Daddy in more ways than more which made him so very vulnerable. And therefore so attractive to him because he would have enjoyed adding to his scars when he broke him. But the redneck had escaped the Governor before he could have his fun with him.

And the Governor wanted him back. To finish what they'd started. Was counting on the younger Dixon, if Rick remained no longer in the picture, (was he injured or maybe killed in the crossfire?) mounting a foolish rescue – to break the fragile truce between the two groups. Giving Woodbury just the excuse to annihilate the prison community and making it look justified. Because then the leader could then argue that they were a dangerous threat that needed to be removed for the good of its citizens. Of course he already knew about the inexplicable close relationships between Daryl and the two women prisoners from his spies and he couldn't see how the uncouth redneck was able to inspire such love or loyalty in them and in the rest of the group. Or why they were looking up at Daryl like he was the leader (no sign of Rick who he would have preferred to deal with) but forcing Daryl to choose was an unexpected bonus – the Governor knew that the dilemma would rip him apart. That he would torture himself with guilt until he could rescue the prisoner. And that Woodbury would expect a rescue attempt at least- more likely an out and out attack.

After that, they would take a few useful prisoners but essentially wipe the enemy from the map. Take the prison as an additional fortress, make use of its crucial stockpile of weapons and supplies.

Because more and more survivors from all over were arriving to Woodbury and an additional location was needed to accommodate the overflow. They were mostly from Georgia and bordering states but they'd somehow heard about the small pocket of apparent civilisation that was run more or less it'd been before the epidemic.

He wondered how when all the communication networks had been down for months.

Good old word of mouth, written messages left for those who trod the same paths..

Of course they were vetted carefully first- put in quarantine then their characters were assessed by the psychologists who observed them in secret over time. To see whether they were compatible, that they weren't troublemakers. Those who failed the test were used as entertainment in the Saturday night shows. Because the human trash was dispensable.

Of course this wasn't made public. Was just rumours whispered in fear. Just like he wanted.

However, there'd been useful people - more builders, carpenters, teachers added. People who could contribute to the rebuilding of civilisation again. Also, thankfully – a real heart surgeon from Atlanta and a couple of fully-qualified doctors.

The Governor knew that Rick's people only had an old veterinarian – no real doctor. The prison people weren't so picky about who they took in, obviously.

On the other hand,Woodbury just didn't take just anybody. Potential citizens had to prove that they would not be an additional burden, that they could contribute in some way. Children, as long as they didn't have any obvious deformities and appeared educationally normal, however, were usually accepted along with their lucky parents.

The Governor triumphed in Daryl's distress as he saw the look of undisguised shock and betrayal in the other's eyes as the one he'd failed to save was dragged away. Tried to send her a promise that he would come back for her with his eyes. To tell her to hang on until he got her out of there.

Promising her.

Tried to beg for her forgiveness. Knowing that there was nothing left – only the Governor's word that he would hold her as hostage to ensure the prison community's good behaviour.

As the Governor turned triumphantly on his heel and began to leave with his people. Was going to leave the uneasy truce without another word.

But Daryl couldn't as he furiously howled like he'd howled for Merle before when Rick and the others had left his brother handcuffed to that roof and then shouted after him. 'Don't you fuckin' hurt her! If any of you touch her, I'm coming after you.'

Slowly, the man turned round smiled pleasantly as if they were saying farewell as acquaintances.

'We wouldn't dream of do you think we are? We ain't animals. We're civilised human beings.' He said, leering at Daryl. 'She will be our guest until we can negotiate a permanent cease of hostilities.' The politician explained reasonably. But his eyes were cold, challenging Daryl.

'Yeah- civilised just like your buddies. Like what you did to Maggie.' He didn't mention his own experience at the hands of the Governor who had the good grace to appear genuinely embarrassed.

'That was a ...um... a misunderstanding.'

'This ain't over yet!' Daryl yelled.

'I truly hope not.' The Woodbury leader calmly replied and flounced out without looking back.

As him and his crew left the prison.

'ii

Tried to tell her with his mind before she was dragged away, but that only worked with Merle of course. Even that was touch n'go. Couldn't always hear his brother or Merle him.

She was trying to be brave but the fear was clear in her eyes as she was brutally dragged off by the cohort of the Governor's men and Randall's group, her hands still tied behind her back.

Hearing the crack of the belt and the sting as it hit his back again and again. The words full of hatred that were snarled and spat at him.

Ya killed her! You let the fire happen!

Should'a been ya that died instead, ya worthless piece of shit.

Ya nothin!, always gonna be nothin' and ain't no-body ever gonna want or love ya.

Feeling again the fiery pain spreading across his back, his scars felt like they were on fire again and he shuddered. The world was fading away again – he had to hold on as he trembled. Hoped the others couldn't see. Cursed his body for always betraying him while Merle stared pointedly at him – knowing exactly what he was feeling and enjoying his discomfort, Daryl knew.

Nevertheless, Merle said nothing. He'd been more or less tolerated only because of his brother but most people still didn't trust him fully. Gave him a wide berth.

'Ya OK, son?' Someone asked in a paternal tone and Merle sniggered. Daryl could hear him clearly in his mind - Fuckin' little pussy. It was a man Dale's age (Daddy's age now - his mind whispered wryly) he didn't know who'd joined the group late.

Yeah – looks like 'im too, little brother. Better watch out. Heard it clear as a bell.

Fuck off out of my mind, Merle.

'Yeah. Fuckin' peachy.' He rounded on the speaker. 'What the fuck do ya think?' Daryl replied caustically. The man's patronising tone got right under his fingernails and he didn't like the man – he made his skin goosebump. The stranger raised his hands in mock surrender.

But he was nothing – despite the way everyone looked at him taking Rick's place in his stead.

He couldn't stand it – all their eyes on him – watching him.

Waiting for him to decide, to give them a plan.

The weight of their eyes, their fear - crushing him.

Looking to him to save them. Decide for them when he was a nobody, a nothing.

Where the hell was Rick anyway?

Because Daryl couldn't save no-one, couldn't keep no-one safe.

Then he growled deep in his throat to silence the voices. The accusations screaming at him within his own mind.

But the woman he'd chosen curled her hand in his after she'd been released and looked up to him. And for once he didn't recoil. Because he needed the comfort.

Giving comfort instead of the blame he deserved and he felt himself coming back.

'There was nothing you could do.' She said.'She's strong and we'll get her back. She'll understand. He won't kill her – not straight away at least - he needs her too much. And before he does, we'll kill the bastard and set Woodbury free. Andrea said that most people there don't agree with what he's doing – he's just got them terrified. They can't all be like him.'

Daryl wasn't so sure.

'Where the hell is Rick?' Daryl said abruptly, ignoring her reassurances and suddenly dropping her hand. 'I can't lead the group – we need to plan what we're going to do.'

Just then, as if he'd heard his question, Glenn came in running. 'Daryl! Herschel! Rick's had another meltdown – come and see. He won't move from the barn, he won't speak to anyone.'

Daryl turned away and sighed. Fuck. Looked like he was gonna be the leader whether he wanted to be or not. Looked over to Merle who nodded in response to his unspoken question - the silent exchange unnoticed by anyone. They were panicking about Rick as Herschel left heavily with Glenn. Showing his age now, bent down also with worry for the hostage. Maggie and some of the others wanted to go with him but Glenn waved them away. 'We don't want too many people around him.' Before they left, Daryl grabbed the elderly doctor's arm. Herschel started, clearly surprised – he knew that Daryl didn't like to be touched or to touch. But he had changed in the last few months. Obviously. 'It's all right.' The old man said. 'I forgive you. You made her happy.'

Daryl breathed a shuddery sigh of relief and turned away. 'Tell Rick to snap out of it, from me. And we'll get her back.'

ii

They roughly undid the ropes binding her hands. Then tried to force her to sit by shoving her onto the wooden chair. But she resisted.

'So...' The Governor addressed her courteously. 'Please sit down.'

She lifted her head high, looked him directly in the eyes. 'I'll stand, thank-you. If you don't mind.' With the same careful politeness.

'Fair enough. We meant what we said.' He replied.'We're all civilised people here. You won't be harmed.'

Outwardly she nodded while savagely she pushed down the hope bubbling into her chest that she would survive this – that they would keep their promise.

Maybe he meant what he said – realised that he'd gone too far. Was geninuely looking for peace between the two communities.

Even as she thought this – she knew that he was lying.

Knew what kind of man he was – one who thrived on inflicting pain and terror on others.

'You're here to ensure your boyfriend's good behaviour. So that he doesn't break the truce. Once we negotiate a peace treaty, you can go home.'

She almost laughed. Boyfriend? She wished. They'd been close at the beginning but despite her signals, her deliberate flirting, he'd not responded. Either hadn't been interested or just plain blind.

But she was not going to correct the bastard – was not going to give him any more information than he had already.

'I wonder why he didn't choose you.' Her captor mused. 'He can't love you very much after all, can he?' He taunted. 'Anyway, to show you that we are serious, we're going to make you comfortable. But first you'll have to be placed in quarantine like we do with all new citizens.'

She shivered inwardly. She'd had enough experience of hospitals and medical workers to last a lifetime.

Their thinly-disguised looks of concern and pity when she came in with more cracked ribs.

Even a skull fracture once.

Examining gently her body that was never free of new bruises and lacerations.

Her two miscarriages after the bastard had beaten their unborn children out of her womb. After accusing her of having an affair of course.

As if she would look at another man – as if she'd be interested in indulging in more sex after suffering through his nightly gropings – sometimes even during the day - whether she wanted him to touch her or not.

Hadn't mattered – he didn't care.

He'd hurt her inside that way as well. Her pain perversely seemed to increase his pleasure.

Once upon a time, she'd known that this was wrong, this wasn't what love should be about – that he Ed was sick.

In fact, knowing that she was unwilling and afraid had excited him even more.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed it – maybe only early in the marriage.

Only Daryl had taught her not to be afraid. His tentativeness, his aloofness, the fact that he was just as damaged as she was.

The fact that he understood.

She'd been the one who had to make the first moves- just as tentatively because if she moved too much too fast he was likely to shy away. And this lessened her fear.

Was the least likely to force himself on anyone. She'd never met a man like him before.

She'd treated him like a shy animal at first, approaching him slowly, encouraging him bit by bit to eat from her hand.

And he'd flinched just like she always did but they both did it far less now.

The fact that he knew.

The terror. The pain. The fear of letting someone near. In case of their rejection or their closed fist coming at you.

The guilt of letting someone break you. Wondering why you'd never been good enough. What you'd done to deserve the pain and abuse.

But they'd both been healing.

She'd wanted him but he hadn't reciprocated.

Too late now. Regret stabbing into her. Never mind. He had Beth now and she felt grateful that he wouldn't be alone.

She knew why he had chosen to save Beth. Couldn't blame him really – save his young girlfriend.

She had nothing left to live for anyway – without her daughter. Without Daryl, her mind whispered but she pushed this thought away.

Daryl had looked at her – trying to tell her that he was sorry, that he would come back for her. She'd smiled back at him,tried to reassure him. But she hadn't been able to keep the fear out of her eyes.

I'll be OK. I've faced worse than the Governor.

Who was no different from her dead husband, from Daryl's father.

She knew – she wasn't fooled.

And the only consolation was that she knew that Daryl and her were stronger than they looked – had already survived the worst from men like the Governor.

'If you were serious, you'd show good will by letting me go.' She tried reasonably.

'That isn't going to happen, I'm afraid.' He replied in a regretful tone but his eyes flashed.

And then she knew that he would never let her go.

The most she could pray for was a quick death.

If she knew she'd see Sophia again she'd suffer anything he did to her willingly.


	23. Chapter 23: Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi - I've been really busy, haven't had time to update but here's another chapter of flashbacks to the past. These are out of sync with the latest events because I am still thinking about what's going to happen. In this chapter, both Daryl and Sophia are harbouring terrible secrets, the abuse in part i is more graphic than usual, hope it is realistic but it was really painful to write, don't know how I didn't cry, probably even more so to read – so please skip if it will trigger. And Merle insists on knowing everything that happened to Daryl because he feels responsible and he can't stand what he's imagining. I keep wanting to write more Daryl and Merle together – their relationship is so complex and I love Merle too – he is not a one-sided character by any means. That's why I've kept him alive so long. Even though sometimes he's a real bully (we can see Daddy Dixon in him) and other times he surprises us by showing his softer side – particularly with Daryl. We get a glimpse of what Merle was like to Daryl when they were growing up.

Somebody's weight was on top of him again – someone bigger and heavier. Their knee on his back holding him down. He panicked and reached under him to draw out his dragger from his belt. To lash out with it and do some damage to his assailant but his attacker merely gave a low, dirty sounding laugh and ground his wrist painfully with his boot until he cried out.

'Ya lucky I don't use it on ya boy, as punishment for fightin' me.' The other man drawled in the same heavily Southern accent as Daryl's and laughed as he shivered. He knew that laugh, that voice that held far too much shared knowledge in it with the reference to one of their father's favourite punishments.

Damn - he knew that only another Dixon could take down another Dixon. And he also knew he shouldn't have drunk so much - given Merle the chance to overpower him - like he did when they were kids. He would have seen this coming and stopped it otherwise. Let himself be taken off guard. Fuckin' Idiot.'Cos Big Bro had been circling him for weeks now - with that sly smirk on his face and Daryl knew that he'd been up to somethin'. Some surprise attack or trick designed to put Daryl back in his place. Which was back under Merle - literally now as well as figuratively.

And he weren't in the mood for one of older brother's power games. But his mind was slightly fuzzy and his lightning-quick reactions were unusually dull.

'You're gonna pay for this, Merle, ya fuck.' He spat into the ground, teeth bared like a wild animal while he panicked and still struggled in vain.

'Tut, tut.' Merle wagged his finger at him like he was a naughty school child. 'Nice try, Darlena.' But felt a flash of pride. Boy was a fighter.

Of course he was. Had to be otherwise he'd probably be dead by now.

'Get off me.' He barked back at his brother while Merle just grinned infuriatingly. Fuck it – his father and now his brother – his so-called family were always pinning him down. His worst fuckin' nightmare.

Like his father - grabbing him painfully by his hair and pushing his head between his legs.

Forcing him to do shit to him.

Not caring if he felt like he couldn't breathe or felt like he was choking to death.

Laughing in his face at his panic or slapping him hard for stopping 'till his head spun.

Or telling him this shit was normal – all sons and fathers did this. Jus' no one talked about it.

Like he believed that – he knew that the things his father did to him weren't right.

He weren't an idiot.

Or touchin' him everywhere when he didn't want it. After that - he never wanted to be touched at all - recoiled from even innocent, friendly touches.

Or worst of all, telling him it was all his special punishment for killing Mama.

Fuck'em. He'd hated their father and he certainly didn't need his brother who failed to stay and protect him.

Merle was straddling him – on his back - enjoying watching him twist and squirm – hopelessly trying to throw him off.

How could he do this when he knew what their father had done to him? When he knew the memories and feelings it would awaken?

'Can't beat me, little brother.' He said, his voice dripping in smug superiority and Daryl hated him him in that moment. For his bullying. For succeeding in overpowering him. Why couldn't he just leave him be? The drugs and alcohol Merle had consumed giving him the determination to do what he'd been putting off. Making him more overbearing than usual. He didn't want to know, didn't want to hear but the pictures in his head were tormenting him. Didn't want to hurt Daryl any more than he'd already been hurt either. But he had to know. The full, filthy truth.'Ya always were a sissy. Ya always weak. And I ain't lettin' ya go 'til ya tell me everythin' about fuckin' Daddy.' Merle spat out the last word with such vicious hatred like it was poison burning the insides of his mouth.

'No...I can't...' Daryl knew then that their little cosy conversation in the forest about Daddy wasn't the last of it. Merle had been looking at him lately with that familiar predatory smirk but he hadn't known what it was about.

'We need to have this out. For ya own good even if you never tell another livin' soul. Ya don't have to tell anyone else if ya don't want ever again. But ya gonna tell me, sweet boy. And I mean fuckin' everythin'. Merle pressed him mercilessly as he brutally grabbed a handful of Daryl's hair, twisting it in his hand and slammed his face back into the damp earth. Making him splutter and choke as he unwittingly got a mouthful of dirt. 'Cos baby brother weren't never gonna open his mouth unless Merle softened him up a bit first.

Daryl trembled, spat and stopped struggling suddenly, knowing it was useless. Knew Merle wasn't going to stop until he gave him what he wanted.

'Everythin' he fuckin' did.' He repeated. Daryl looked down at the ground and felt like he couldn't breathe. 'And ya gonna tell me, baby Darlena.'

'There, there, baby brother.' Merle patted his back – meant to be consoling but Daryl's back cringed. His whole body rebelling.

'Fuck ya. You weren't there, why care now?' He growled back bitterly.

He don't like being touched, Merle thought distractedly but made no move to stop. But difference is now I know the fuckin' reason why.  
And wanted to torture his father to death forever all over again for hurtin' Daryl - for fuckin' touchin' the boy. But he never considered that maybe his own behaviour towards Daryl might be just as abusive.

'It ain't so bad.' He murmured softly to his younger brother.

'Fuck off! Get off me!' Daryl hissed aggressively in return.

What was that dear brother?'

'Ya – ya..jus' like 'im.' He stammered back.

And Merle laughed. 'Let's see what we got here, shall we?' He started to pull up Daryl's shirt making his bucking movements go into overdrive – as he visibly shuddered and tried to pull it down again. But his brother slapped his hands away. Making him remember his shame when Merle had seen his back before. He never wanted anyone to see how he'd been punished. When he'd been young and weak and hadn't been strong enough to stop it. He tried again to buck his older brother off.

But Merle was bigger and a whole lot heavier.

'Now these 'ere...' Merle mused, ignoring his brother's pleas, tracing the raised, pinkish scar tissue running down his brother's back with one finger.

Daryl was quiet now, resigned to his fate. The worst thing was not being able to see what his brother was doing - just like when Daddy had used the knife on him. Like being carved up with the knife. And he knew about Merle's sick fascination with his scars - scars of any kind. He knew that Merle was proud of his - had flaunted them before the end of things like some kind of battle trophies or mementoes of what he'd survived. Proof of how badass and tough he was. His brother was sick - as sick as Daddy was.

He gave up and went limp. Praying that if he didn't resist, it would be over more quickly.

Submissive.

Making Merle wonder if he had been submissive like this with their Daddy and he had to fight the bile rising up into his throat. He turned his head aside, hawked and spat on the ground while Daryl cringed away.

'These were from the belt obviously.' He suddenly declared, turning back to the task at hand.

Daryl trembled but made no answer.

'I need to know,' Merle told him patiently by way of explanation, like he was instructing a backward child but serious this time. '...exactly what he did when I was gone.'

'Why?' Daryl asked belligerently, yet his trembling body betrayed him. Trying to raise himself from the ground by his hands. 'It's too fuckin' late now. I already told you everythin' in the forest.' The bitter accusation ringing in his voice hurting Merle but he brushed it off.

'Nah- you didn't. '

'Don't make me...don't …' Daryl looked down and muttered into the ground, seemingly unheard by his brother. Hated the way he sounded - weak. Childish. Worse - they were the same words he used when he'd begged Daddy. Didn't Merle realise?

Had never done any good then either.

'These don't look like they're from the belt.' Merle gently ran his finger along the marks at the top of his brother's back that criss-crossed each other as Daryl whimpered. 'Did he do them?' He asked mock incredulously, when Daryl knew he knew. 'They're from the knife aren't they?'

No answer. Silence. Not that he expected one.

'I'm right, aren't I?' Merle crowed almost triumphantly. ' He cut ya up with the kitchen knife just like he did me.'

When Daryl, totally lost in the memory of how he got those particular scars, lowered his head and whimpered again instead of answering, this irritated Merle because Merle's whole torso was littered in scars from the knife. Unlike Daryl's who would only show such weakness to his big brother - would have been mortified if the others had walked in on them - like Rick or Shane. He wouldn't have minded Carol so much. But then Merle had been both mother and father to him - better than either of their actual parents until he left. Had made sure he was fed and clothed even if he had to steal. Even if he wasn't perfect, but he was all Daryl had.

'Ya fuckin' pussy! Stop ya fuckin' whinin'!' Merle hissed at him, shaking him but he did finally get off him. Only to roughly pull his head into his lap and Daryl let him, unresisting.

'Can't take your punishments like a Dixon – never could.' But Merle tugged down his brother's shirt to cover his shaking back again and brushed back his brother's hair from his face while Daryl desperately tried to hide in his lap. 'Ya never could.' He said more softly this time. 'I knew that and I still left you...But what he did...'

Then Merle allowed him to almost get to his feet, letting him think that he was going to let him go but then bowled him over again without warning with a cruel grin on his face. Daryl fell back to the ground with a grunt, this time face-up. Merle kneed him in the chest to keep him down but there was no need. Daryl had given up struggling.

'Can't beat me, baby brother. Can't never say no to me neither. Better remember that. I always come out on top.' Merle was enjoying this - toying with Daryl like a cat with a bird with a broken wing. Sometimes batting it softly with its paw, letting it almost get away, then attacking with claws out the next. But never gonna let it go. He never considered his treatment of him was just as bullying as their father's in some ways 'cos it had always been like this between them. It was the Dixon way.

Daryl raised his head and glared at his brother through his tortured, haunted bright blue eyes. Balefully promising retribution for this without mercy with eyes also red and damp from the tears he refused to let fall. And despite himself, Merle's heart lurched painfully in his chest and he turned away unable to meet them. Because he knew that crying for them had always meant more pain and punishment. Ya want me to do it again, boy? Keep cryin' and I will. 'Cos Dixons don't cry. And when baby brother looked like this, so fuckin' vulnerable and yet so impossibly intimidating at the same time, even trembling now like he was beneath his knee, Daryl was beautiful. Not that he knew it, Merle mused bitterly. Probably thought he was ugly. Hadn't even realised that mincing old slut Carol was dying to spread her bony legs for him. And others were too - men and women, Merle wouldn't be surprised. Did the Governor touch him? But only his older brother could reduce him to the broken boy he used to be. To Darlena. 'Cos Merle knew all the right buttons to press - just mentioning their father usually worked.

'So this is why you're doing this? Tryin' make yourself feel better? Ya wanna know all the fuckin' details? Ya getting' off on them? Are ya sick, Merle, sick like him or just off your fuckin' head on drugs and booze?' Daryl accusedd bitterly. 'Too late, bro. So just get out of here and leave me alone.' But he turned his head away as he began to sob. Couldn't help the hot tears running down his face as he buried his head in shame in his brother's lap. 'Cos Dixon's don't cry. Ever. Even clung closer to his brother when Merle began to stroke his hair, gently now, not minding his trousers getting soaking wet. And didn't even berate him for showing weakness.

Just for this one short moment - Daryl was his, again.

Dixons don't cry but Merle thought he'd make another exception in this case. Just like before when Daryl had freaked out or broken down crying because of the sick shit Daddy did to him.

'Should never have left ya – knew ya couldn't take the shit he would do to you. But I never thought he would do that to you as well.' Merle's voice was cracking slightly.

'I just had to get out – see? I couldn't know...'I didn't know.' Now Merle was pleading with him.

And suddenly caressing him so softly now, trying to make it all better that it reminded Daryl of when their Mama had touched him in the same way. Touch without hurt and the tension left his body and he stopped trembling. Like the few times before she stopped touching him altogether, that was. Most people wouldn't have believed that Merle could be gentle - but then again, he was only that way with his baby brother - no-one else. Shame he didn't have any children that he actually knew about - might have even made a half-decent father if he could have straightened himself out. Held down a job, got off the drugs and booze.

Got rid of the minor problem of being a sadistic, violent psychopath as well. And the hate-filled rage, of course.

'Knew you were no fuckin' Dixon.' Merle concluded – his final verdict.

His final judgement. The last nail in the coffin.

'But I never thought he would do that. Go that far.' And Daryl knew what he was talking about - something far worse than belts and knives and he couldn't stop the whimper from escaping from between his clenched teeth. 'Daddy was one perverted fuck – the Devil take his soul.'

His brother was talking about something worse than even the cigarettes put out onto his bare skin. And held there while he was held down by his father's body weight. And Daryl started to tell him – in all the gritty details – not holding anything back.

Merle smirked when he heard about Roxie 'Why that so bad?' He mocked. 'So he fucked an ugly junkie skank in front of ya. Big fuckin' deal.'

But then Daryl told him how he'd been held down at other times– crushed by the man's bulk so that he could barely breathe. Heard his father's swinish grunts and groans in his ear. Merle sighed a tortured, shuddery breath and started up that gentle stroking shit again.

And Daryl let him.

But he paused before continuing.

Felt him shudder above him as he came inside his twelve year old son.

The horror of feeling his own father inside him. The pain. The shame.

His older brother closed his eyes and shook his head.

And felt that he could never get the feel of him or his filth out of him no matter how much he scrubbed.

Or sat naked, head pounding from the blows, shivering but gratefully numb from the cold, bleeding into that icy river that freezing day before he decided to do what he did. He'd picked up his dagger then, barely able to feel his fingers and fantasised about slitting his wrists already bruised black and blue from the cuffs or better – his throat.

Maybe all three. Make sure he didn't come back.

Merle couldn't help himself taking his brother's hands and turning them over to check for tell-tale scars. When he saw there were none, he pulled a now placid Daryl away from his lap. Put his arms round him and held him like that while he told. Just like he did when Darlena was very small and was scared in the night. When he'd come crawling into his big brother's bed.

Daryl heard his brother's sigh of relief and continued. He'd just been about to drag the knife across his throat (he figured that this would be quickest) to escape the hell of living with his father. But then he'd heard his brother's voice snarling in his head.

'So, ya jus' gonna give up, let 'im win, little Darlena? Let 'im break ya? Ya ain't no Dixon if ya do!'

And finally, 'I didn't raise ya that way to be no fuckin' little pussy nigger bitch! Fight back!'

And Daryl did finally fight back.

Merle smiled wistfully at this.

But he was filthy, ashamed. He would never forget the pain of it as long as he lived. Like being ripped apart. And other people's touch just brought it all back. Could never stand no-one touching him after that.

Not just his body but his mind, his soul or whatever the fuck you called it – torn apart. Torn open.

He'd been handcuffed to the bed actually – the last time he'd let it happen. Didn't know why he'd put it up with so long. Because Daryl had sunk his teeth into his father's forearm when he was wrestling him to the bed that last time. Despite it all, secretly pleased that he'd managed to scar the bastard. But been rewarded with the knife held against his throat and the dirty rag stuffed into his mouth so no-one could hear his screams. All the time knowing what was going to happen. Had put up a token fight (he knew that could never have won against Daddy) and received a black eye, a swollen lip and a momentary unfortunately but blissful concussion for his resistance. 'Cos he found it more difficult to go walking those times.

Merle's lips warped into a painful smirk full of twisted pride at his younger brother's courage. Hugged him closer to him then. Didn't want to hear more but forced himself to listen. After all, he owed Daryl that much.

If he couldn't even bear to listen to the whole sick story, how could Daryl have survived living it?

Until his father rose out of his alcohol and drugs stupor and had released him in the morning. Had done it ridiculously gently, taking care not to further hurt his wrists bruised from the cuffs. 'Cos of course Daryl had tried to escape numerous times but he'd been forced to lie there all night with the side of his head pounding from his father's blows and his nicked throat bleeding from the knife held there. And bleeding from other places. Bastard had even tried to touch his hair as if in apology but when Daryl violently jerked his head away from his hand, Daddy didn't try again. He'd been determined that he ever escaped he was going to run away for good this time and never come back. Maybe even to Atlanta. Live on the streets – sell it there - anything was better than living with the monster who was supposed to love him. Protect him. But instead he had to lie there - terrified if it would start all over again when his father woke up. Wondering if he was ever going to uncuff him.

Twisted bastard even had the gall to look shocked and sorry at what he'd done. Had released him without a word while Daryl flinched and cringed back. Until he was free. Then he'd run as fast as he could.

Not that stopped Daryl. 'Cos Daddy's fatal mistake was to let him go in the first place.

Because after that, he had made sure that it would never happen again.

Because Daryl knew that it was never gonna stop unless he made it and he couldn't go through it again.

He wouldn't survive another time.

'Cos though it had happened many times before but that time was the worst. The most vicious, the most brutal 'cos he'd decided to uselessly put up a fight.

And he knew that Merle understood. Didn't – couldn't blame him as he cradled him close.

'Cos after killin' your own father there isn't much more that you're not capable of.

'It's over, all over now you've told.' Merle whispered to him.

ii.

Daryl looking up at him – the anger and betrayal shooting out from his eyes. Accusing him, sayin' he was jus' like their fuck up ole man. That he was enjoyin' listening to the fucked up shit the sick bastard had done to him. And it was all his fault. He'd let it happen.

Saying that he was forcing him – just like he'd done. Pinning him down – yes but forcing him only to tell.

He didn't know how much that hurt although he'd laughed when he'd said that because all he'd ever done was try and protect Daryl from him. His body was more scarred up than his – had let the asshole punish him instead so that he left him alone. But unlike Daryl who was ashamed of them, Merle felt a sense of pride in his scars – they showed what he'd survived and how tough he was. Had even flaunted them in jail, in fact to impress the other cons. And he'd never told Daryl that he'd taken his punishments for him. All the extra cuts with the knife, the particularly brutal beatings that left him unable to walk for days. Hadn't wanted baby brother to feel bad or guilty.

Had tried to save him. Daryl didn't know any of this.

But he'd failed.

But then he had to leave – he couldn't stay. He'd thought he'd killed the old bastard for fuck's sake. Didn't Daryl understand? He wished he had finished him off even if it left his brother an orphan. 'Cos probably boy would have been better off with even half-decent foster-parents. Almost anyone was better than the sick fuck he'd left him with.

Now his littl' brother was glaring at him – in fury as Merle forced him to tell the harrowing truth in most of its sordid details.

Made him tell him even as he spat it out brokenly and painfully.

And held him while he did.

Baby brother was smart (despite first impressions sometimes) and tough but still he hadn't figured it out. Didn't know that it wasn't the first time that his brother had been cruel to be kind. Thought that Merle was just torturing him for fun but didn't realise that Merle was torturing himself as well by forcing Daryl to tell and himself to listen.

Punishing himself – Dixons didn't exactly share but he needed to know. 'Cos he needed to drown out the pictures in his head – of his baby brother and their father and his imagination was running riot. The truth couldn't be worse, could it?

Of the things the sick bastard had done to Daryl.

Turned out it was.

His imagination was no way near.

Had tried to make himself better and ended making himself feel worse.

But that didn't matter – main thing Daryl felt better if he told him. At least he knew what they'd father had been like. Although, of course he didn't believe in all that psycho-babble crap. It was for pussies. Weak people who couldn't cope with life. The Apocalypse had soon weeded out most of those deadweights except for the ones in the camp. They'd tried to make him see the shrink in prison - but he'd refused to speak to her. Even said that he was a borderline sociopath and he had laughed in their faces for thinking they knew what or who he was. Nevertheless, the fear that he was like his Daddy gnawing at the back of his mind. He didn't need no snotty-nosed bitch who had no idea of how the real world worked for people like him and Daryl walking around inside his head.

iii.

'Mom, can I go and see Daryl now?' Sophia was happy, hiding something behind her back.

Carol beamed at the change in her daughter. She looked happier these days and Carol thought she knew why. Not just because she had a new playmate in Carl. Because she often went to visit Daryl and Merle in their tent and she knew that Lori for instance, made sure Carl kept away from them. Not that he wanted to hang around with them anyway but she'd seen him admire Daryl's crossbow. Saw the younger Dixon more patiently than she would have expected, explain how to use it to the boy but then most people gave the Dixon brothers a wide berth. She knew that they gossiped about her and the younger Dixon behind her back – even Lori and Andrea, trying to figure out what exactly their relationship was.

But they couldn't understand. Well, at least she and Daryl provided some added intrigue and entertainment to the otherwise dull camp life.

'OK, darling but you be careful. Make sure you come back for dinner.'

The girl rolled her eyes. 'Mom, I'm not exactly going to be attacked by Walkers running across the field.'

'Wait a minute – what's that you got behind your back?' Carol grabbed her daughter's arm and turned her gently round while she squirmed in her grasp.

'Come on.' Carol coaxed. 'Let me see.'

'No!' But Sophia resisted and squirmed more. Refused to open her fist. 'It's for Daryl! It's a secret surprise!'

Carol sighed theatrically but inside, she was smiling. Who would have predicted that her shy daughter would make friends with the awkward and gruff redneck. 'Don't tell me, then. Go – but make sure that you don't come home late. Dad won't like it.'

A meaningful glance passed between mother and daughter. Both knew what the consequences of incurring Ed's displeasure would be.

iv. Five days later

'Hey sweetie!' Merle put down the gun he was polishing and held out his arms to her. 'Come to give Uncle Merle a hug?' But she didn't go running to him like she normally did – either his choice of words or something in his tone made her hang back. She hunched her shoulders fearfully and hid behind Daryl. Looked at the big man distrustfully from under his arm.

Merle was hurt but typically didn't show it. Lashed out instead. 'Come 'ere, girl.' He ordered, getting irritated now. Reached behind his brother to roughly grab her arm but he missed as she cringed away from his hand and Daryl shoved his brother hard in the chest away from them.

'She don't wanna. Jus' leave it. What the fuck's wrong with ya, bro?'

'What's wrong with her?'

Ignoring his brother's words, Daryl turned back on him and squatted down in front of the girl and looked up into her eyes.

'What's wrong, honey?' He asked her gently – not in his usual gruff voice. 'Merle weren't gonna hurt ya.'

'I know. I'm sorry.' Sophia trembled. 'I didn't mean to make him angry.' She looked over at Merle timidly.

'Nah, don't worry about it. He ain't angry, are ya Merle?' Daryl asked his brother pointedly, looking back over at him.

Merle rolled his eyes and stormed off without replying. Little brother had always been good with kids – shame he'd never had any himself. Should have been a fuckin' kindergarten teacher or a nursery maid or somethin'.

Better than him.

Better than their old man. But then, who wasn't?

'Forget about him. He'll get over it.' Daryl said. 'He's just an asshole!' He yelled to his brother's retreating back while Merle flipped him the bird without even looking.

'I...I don't wanna go home.' She said. 'Can I stay here with you and Merle?'

'Well, I don't know...what does your Mom say?' He answered, stalling. Wanting to run away himself because he didn't need this - he didn't want to hear someone's else's pain. 'Cos of course he knew why she was scared to go home. Told himself that Carol and her daughter were nothing to him, not like Merle was.

'Pleese...' She pleaded, squinting her eyes up at him. 'Pretty pleese...' He sensed her fear and desperation. Coming off her in waves.

Merle was right – they'd stayed far too long. These people needed him more than they needed them.

Then his eyes narrowed and he shivered. But how many times had he not wanted to go home? Especially after he went walking.

Dreading going home – fearing the latest form of torture that his father had dreamt up, 'cos fucker had got more and more twisted after Merle left.

Hoping Daddy was out with his latest bimbo or his methhead buddies. Or praying that his father was passed out from booze and drugs again because after Roxy left, he spent more and more time at home.

What if there had been someone to listen to him? To help him? But there had been – his grandfather - at least for a little while and that memory of Earl decided him. He weren't gonna be like Merle and turn his back on another person – especially a kid – in trouble.

Steeling himself, he pressed her softly again. 'Why don't ya wanna go home, sweetie?'

He didn't want to know but he already knew the answer. Her father was just an abusive asshole like his own had been.

Sophia trembled and looked down at the ground and he unconsciously clenched his fists and raised them low at his sides. She looked like he knew he used to look at her age. A bundle of nerves full of shame and blaming herself for what some evil bastard was doing to her.

Far too familiar.

'What is it, sweetie?' He asked again then saw her eyes widen in fear as she glanced at his fists and she took a step back. Idiot! and loosed them again. 'Sorry', he mumbled. She couldn't know that it was because he wanted to beat the shit out of her Daddy. Of course she thought they were for her, with a father like that.

Like his own.

Fuckin' asshole. He wanted to go and put him down right now. Also to escape hearing her answer.

'I can't tell. He says he'll kill Mom if I tell anyone.' She whispered suddenly, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her. She still stared at the ground.

Daryl sighed. Shuddered.

Knew it. But didn't want to know it. Never wanted to know.

Forced himself to ask with a calm that he didn't feel, 'What does he do?'

She shook her head and crouched down on the ground on her heels, rocking herself. Unconsciously squeezing her thighs together and he knew then what Ed did to her. 'Can't tell...mustn't tell..our little secret...'

And he held back from questioning her further – probably she was too innocent to understand what he was asking her anyway. He hoped so.

Knew that Carol tried to keep her that way – to allow her to have a childhood despite the world going to shit. But her father soon destroyed that one hope.

'Ya listen here – ya tell ya Mom. Ya tell her. And tell her from me if he hurts either of ya again – in any way, me and Merle'll sort him out.' He said fiercely.

'Ya gonna tell Merle?' The girl asked fearfully. 'What ...what ya gonna do to him? Please don't hurt him.' She begged as she got up gracefully, his heart lurching in his chest because the movement was so like her mother's. And she was just like her, she was still trying to defend Ed now even after all the things the asshole had done to her and her Mom.

'I mean – we'll just talk to him, jus' talk. Tell him to stop.' He lied gruffly while images of taking his hunting knife to cut between the bastard's legs went through his mind. As the familiar blood-red curtain of rage descended over his vision. He shook his head to clear it.

Didn't know what was stopping him after hearing what the girl didn't tell him but told him anyway from going and gutting the bastard like the pig he was.

Why not? He'd killed his own father. He'd do it to protect Sophia. Carol as well.

Carol. Carol would never forgive him. Unless they did it and covered it up. Or made him disappear. They could do that but that wasn't the Dixon way because only cowards did something then lied about it afterwards.

Anyway, she would know.

Did she know what he was doing to his own daughter?

He didn't think so. Knew that she wouldn't tolerate that even if she let him do whatever he wanted to her. She wouldn't let him touch the girl.

Would she?

He reached out slowly and put a hand on Sophia's shoulder. She didn't shrug him off or move away so he left it where it was.

Trusted him that much at least. And he felt a glow start up, deep in his belly.

'Come on. Let's go back.' Then she slipped her hand into his and he felt the warmth from her hand travelling up his whole body. He had always shrunk from the touch of other people's hands – had never usually allowed them to touch even his hand but this felt right. Until he met Carol.

He wondered how she could trust another adult male. Especially a man like him.

Incredibly, she smiled then and looked up with those deep, green eyes so much like her mother's.

Not like her father's dull greys. More often than not, shot through with red.

She hadn't cried. And he knew that she, like him, was tougher than she looked.

As they walked along, he fingered the white rose cufflinks set in gold in his pocket that she gave him a few days ago after she'd found them in an old abandoned house with Carl. He knew that Carol would have a fit if she knew that the two had gone off on their own in Walker-infested surroundings but Carl had proved that he could take of himself and Sophia. And Daryl had almost laughed when she gave them to him, she must have known that he didn't wear those kind of shirts. Who did now?

But he'd been touched – saw it as a sign because he'd never told her about his mother's Cherokee stories. And yet she had just found him cuff links that looked like white Cherokee roses, each with a golden centre - what were the chances of that? And not just ordinary cuff links neither – flowers were unusually feminine for what was a male accessory. He knew that Merle would have said they were for pansy homo fags and laughed at him but he thought that they were beautiful and lucky nevertheless. And Sophia's eyes had gone wide in surprise when he'd explained about the Cherokee rose to her.

Later, he would always carry a on him – to remember her by and for some reason, never shown Carol them. He was surprised that they made him feel safe when he went on a mission, just like the crossbow his brother gave him.

Safe, just like her mother always made him feel.


	24. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more flashbacks of Merle and Daryl under the common theme of 'promises' before we get back on track with the story. I'm keeping Merle alive by manipulating the time-line (well my story is a bit AU anyway) because - you've guessed it- I can't bear to let him go - hope this doesn't put anyone off. Anyway, Carol is being kept hostage by the Governor and time is running out for her and I've got a feeling that he's got something special planned for her - worse than we can ever imagine. Can Daryl save her in time? Does he think he chose the wrong prisoner and regret his decision? Will his relationships with Beth and Carol change after this?
> 
> Some more Daryl and Beth in part iii for those of you who are fans of the pairing, also under the theme 'Promise'.

i.

'Merle.'

He turned round in surprise to look at her, saw the fresh bruises on her face, her swollen, puffy lips.

And felt nothing. No pity or anger on her behalf. Had been dead inside so long when it came to her.

'Merle.' She called him again, softer this time. Wheedling now. Looking at him now, really looking at him – without her glance sliding sideways, over him like usual. Like he wasn't there. Like he didn't even exist.

He turned, torn between going to her and storming out without a backward glance.

Would serve the bitch right. She weren't no mother. Hadn't been one to him for years.

Deserved everythin' she got. Including his old man and whatever shit he did to her.

What he did to him, what he wanted to do to Daryl.

'Cos she made him love her then withdrew her love.

Fuckin' evil bitch. She hurt him more than the ole man with his belt and his fists and the knife ever could. 'Cos he didn't expect nothin' from that evil bastard. Only rage and hate and all kinds of pain.

And that was OK. Because he could take it from him.

But he had expected fuckin' more from her.

Why did she want him now? Years of ignoring him when Baby Boy Daryl came along.

But he couldn't hate Daryl for that. Weren't none of his fault that they were born into a fucked up family.

Daryl were an Innocent.

In the end he wanted to hear what she had to say for herself even while kicking himself for still letting her have this power over him as he went over to her. Still wanting her even now. 'Cos heartless bitch still had the ability to make him weak, make him want her still. So he sat on the floor beside her chair. Looked up at her but keeping his expression deliberately stony and distant.

Hoping all the while she didn't hear his heart galloping inside his chest or see him trembling slightly. Never could control his damn body – it always betrayed him.

'Merle.' She said again while looking anxiously at the door. Daryl was in school and Daddy was out – probably down the bar. Probably worrying about the hell to pay if she was caught speaking to him.

Her small hand shook as she shakily put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the table. Her cheap yellow floral print dressing gown gaped open and he tried not to look at her exposed cleavage and her unwashed hair was long and greasy as usual. He also unwittingly caught sight also of the purple bruises on her lower legs and turned away – he didn't want to see those.

She didn't even notice, of course.

She disgusted him – all she did was drink and smoke all day. Didn't even do no housework. Didn't make food or go shopping neither. She was weak and he couldn't remember the last time she'd touched him or even addressed him.

He turned flint-hard eyes devoid of love or pity onto her. 'Yeah?' He drawled. 'So...what the fuck ya want?' Glad to see her flinch at his harsh words.

'I didn't want to choose.' She buried her head in her hands. Began to weep pitifully and he hated that he still hated to see her cry when he shouldn't give a shit. 'He made me. Either ya or Daryl, he said.' When she leaned closer to him, he caught a sour whiff of the cheap wine that she started drinking as soon as got up every afternoon.

He said nothing. Offered no sympathy nor understanding. But wanting to make her stop anyway.

But still he held back – did nothing.

Then she did stop to look up at him with those tearful blue eyes - Daryl's eyes his mind whispered - pleading for him to understand. But even so, he didn't.

Never would.

Cos' she were a fuckin' victim.

She were weak. Didn't protect her young like even the dumbest animals did.

'I chose Daryl 'cos he's only a baby. 'Sides he's not like ya. He's different. Ya know that, I know that's why ya protect 'im.' She desperately tried to make him see.

'Fuckin' bitch. What about me, huh?' He felt a surge of rage as he snarled viciously back at her. 'He can cut me up with the knife, he can break my bones and burn me but ya don't give a fuck as long as he leaves ya and poor Baby Daryl alone.' He sneered bitterly and got up to loom over her with his fists clenched tight at his sides. She cowered like she thought he was going to hit her – as if - like Daddy did. He never wanted to be like that woman-hitting bastard and the stab of shame he felt at her apparent fear of him brought him back to himself as he took a step back from her.

'Why, Mama?' He said wistfully suddenly, childishly, sounding like the thirteen-year old he really was as he stepped hesitantly back towards her. But his eyes were old, haunted – had been since she could remember. And this knowledge stabbed into her as she shivered. 'Why can't he love us, why does he always want to hurt us? We ain't bad like he says.'

She took another long, deep drink from her 'medicine' flask. Didn't matter – he knew what was in it. Probably already on her way to drinking herself to death. But then she opened her arms to him. 'I know ya and Daryl ain't bad. I don't know baby, I don't know. Somethin' ain't right with his head.' He wanted to run away then but she was pulling him down, to have his head rest in her lap and her arms felt far too seductive around him. And he couldn't resist because she'd hadn't touched him for such a long time. He didn't even care about the stench of alcohol or stale sweat that always seemed to surround her these days - that she tried to cover up with her cheap perfume.

Because she hadn't touched him for such a very long time.

When her touch, her look, was all he'd secretly ever craved.

No-one had touched him except maybe Daryl. Their father – only to hurt.

'You're my baby boy, too. No matter what happens. Ya know that, don't ya?' She asked, slurring slightly now. Her arms were round him and he gave a long, deep shuddering breath.

All the pain he'd pushed down, pushed away from him, all the years.

'Ya always be my first baby boy.' She crooned, running her fingers through his hair and gasping when he flinched and hissed in pain when they grazed the latest lump on his scalp. So,instead, she suddenly cupped his head in her palms and raised his face to look at her. Held it there with one hand so he was looking up at her while she took another swig from the flask to fortify herself before asking him for the promise. Looked deliberately into his eyes.

'Merle, take care of Daryl. Don't let Daddy hurt him and don't ever leave him.' Her slur was more pronounced this time. 'Please.' She begged.

He nodded without hesitation. Eager to please her and without fully knowing in his childish understanding what she was asking - the burden, the responsibility. The sacrifice.To let Daddy take out his rage on his body instead of Daryl's - let it be carved up and scarred instead of his baby brother's. After all, he'd been protecting the kid since the day he was born, kept Daddy off him and taken his punishments for him. But then again, he'd promise anything in that moment to make her like him, to maybe even love him again.

'Promise?' She insisted, looking deep into his eyes and shaking his head from side to side gently.

'Promise.' He said and she slowly lowered his head down back into her lap. He felt so unsure – didn't know what to do, how to act, he didn't want to do anything that would upset her, make her push him away again and stop this moment.

Because he wanted to stay in her arms forever – to feel her fingers moving like this through his hair.

'Cos he ain't like ya.' She continued.'He ain't so tough. Baby boy been protected.' She didn't mention that Daryl was only five years old. And she stroked his hair as he fell asleep, carefully avoiding his latest injury. She loved him again and that's all he'd ever wanted.

But he next day was back to normal. Like none of it had ever happened. She was back to ignoring him again – wouldn't look at him, speak to him, let alone touch him.

He felt a final, irrevocable surge of hatred towards her then and he vowed he would never go to her again, even if she called. Which of course she never did.

Even if she were fuckin' dyin'.

But something made him still protect her as well as Daryl when he could.

Made a point of not coming back to go to the funeral. Not even to see if Daryl was OK.

Why? He felt nothing when she was gone. He weren't no hypocrite – pretending he felt something for her when he didn't.

That weren't the Dixon way.

She'd lied to him just to get him to promise. Pretended to love him to get him to agree to do something he would do anyway.

Had been doing since his baby brother was born, in fact.

But then he'd broken his promise to her. Told himself that he'd kept it as long as he could.

She didn't love him, never had. Bitch was incapable of even loving her own children. What kind of mother was that? What kind of woman? She hated their Daddy – he understood that but what had he or Daryl ever done to her? Except be born?

Hated her even more as he was forced to watch Daryl's confusion and hurt as she eventually started ignoring him altogether when he got bigger.

As she stopped touching him, barely spoke to him except to tell him to go to the store for her. Merle tried in his own way to compensate - sometimes he thought he was the only one in the family whoever touched the boy or showed him any affection. Even if he wasn't always that gentle.

A rough hug or tussling his hair. Even holding him sometimes. And that weren't the Dixon way.

But he still kept the promise he made to her – as long as he could – to protect Daryl.

But then he'd just had to get out – couldn't stay when the bastard cut too deep on his chest that last time and nearly killed him.

Knew then he'd either kill the old man or the old man would kill him.

Hadn't thought about Daryl – thought he'd killed the old bastard.

Told himself that it wasn't his fault.

Nevertheless, the guilt burned like acid into his skin, where he thought his heart was, that was - if he still had one.

But Daryl would never understand. Would never forgive him for the promise he'd broken. Merle saw it in his eyes everyday.

ii.

The wind was getting up, swirling the brown leaves in circles in the camp. The nights were getting colder not that Daryl seemed to notice. Somewhere an owl screamed. No sign of Walkers since they'd moved up the mountain - they felt safe for the first time in days.

Later, they would regret their complacency but not tonight.

Boy always burned hot. Even as Merle sat next to him by their own private camp fire, finishing off some spliffs they'd rolled and sharing a bottle or two of tequila that Daryl had commandeered on a run. They were away from the others and he felt Daryl's body heat blasting away like another heater.

Lucky really on this chilly, clear night. He wondered why Daryl wasn't with Carol, that dowdy, motherly old broad who had the hots for him. But he was glad he was here.

As if he'd heard his unspoken question, his brother said, 'Jus' wanted to spend time with my big bro, is all. No-one else can stand ya.' He joked and Merle punched his arm.

'Sugar Tits likes me.' Taking a long, deep drag. Leaning back on his elbows and blowing up the smoke in circles towards the cold, starry sky.

'Yeah, right, after ya called her that. Dream on, bro. Ya ain't Andrea's type.'

'No, I think she likes me...I'm gettin' somewhere. We was flirtin' today.'

'Fuck off, bro.'

'What about ya and Carol?'

Daryl hunched his shoulders and looked down at the ground to hide his blush. Dangling the bottle between his legs. Took another drag nervously. 'Ain't nothin' happenin' between me and Carol. Jus' friends.'

His brother rolled his eyes. 'Since when is a man and woman jus' friends?'

Daryl didn't say that he stayed with her because she made him feel safe. Like someone apart from his brother gave a fuck about him. Didn't judge him. But Merle would jus' laugh and call him a sissy. So he rapidly changed the subject.

'Wanna go huntin' tomorrow?'

'Yeah, OK. What time?'

'Soon as it gets light, of course. Ya actually gonna help me, this time?'

Merle pouted like a fish with mock indignation on his face. 'Since when don't I help?'

'Merle, if you want the group to accept ya, ya gotta contribute more. OK?'

'OK.' But Merle shivered suddenly at the dark sense of foreboding filling him. Both he and Daryl had learned early to listen to their instincts and hunches - had saved their skins many a time. He didn't want to ruin the mood but it was better to get it sorted out now, just in case. 'A walker just walked over my grave. Listen, Daryl, if anythin' happens to me...'

Daryl ducked his head and looked away, took another deep swig from the liqueur bottle. Then dragged deep on his spliff - he needed its mellowing effects for this particular conversation. 'Don't have to talk about that now.' He snapped, cutting his brother off. He didn't want to even think about losing his big brother after only just getting him back again. Minus one hand or not.

But Merle tugged his arm to turn him round to face him. 'No, seriously, listen to me, baby brother, promise me if I die or I turn into a Walker, ya know what ya gotta do?'

'Merle, that ain't gonna happen... I won't let it!' Daryl reassured him fiercely, his blue eyes hard.

'But just in case...'

'OK...OK!' Daryl gave in, exasperated. 'I'll take care of ya, if the time comes.'

But Merle grabbed his brother by his shoulders and looked intensely into his eyes. 'Promise me, brother.'

'OK. I promise.' Daryl told him. 'Jus' get the fuck off me, will ya!'

Merle released him and tussled his younger brother's hair while Daryl squirmed under his hand, making him laugh.

'Thanks, littl' brother.' Merle was finally relieved and absurdly grinning, rudely grabbed the bottle from him. Took his own deep swig. The second bottle was nearly empty, he could almost see the bottom. 'Cos I don't want to be runnin' round like one of those rottin', mindless fucks, feedin' on the livin' and waitin' to be put down like a rabid dog. Rather be dead than that. And don't give me half a chance to turn round and bite ya- turn ya into one of those accursed things too – stab me through both eyeballs and don't hold back, ya hear!' Merle commanded him. 'Cos it won't be me no more.' He added, his voice fading.

Daryl shivered at his own sudden sense of dread. Why had Merle brought that up suddenly? Spoilt things when they were chilling out and shit? He couldn't – didn't - want to think about life without Merle. His only family. Couldn't imagine it.

'Merle.' Daryl whispered longingly, his voice wavering slightly as his elder brother laid back down and began to snore as he finally passed out without hearing. Then his voice hardened as he snarled at his comatose brother, 'Don't ya fuckin' dare even think about leavin' me...Again.'

iii

The exchange had been made, everyone agreed that no rescue operation could be mounted that night. Woodbury would be on guard – the prisoner would just have to take her chances. Outside, the wind howled but couldn't shake the heavy stone walls of the prison the rain pounded the windows.

The shitty weather matched his mood and everyone was despondent about what had happened to Carol. People came up to him to tell him not to worry, to tell him that there was nothing he could have done and that they would get Carol back until he couldn't stand it no more. Them telling him how strong Carol was and that she was worth more alive than dead to the Governor as a bargaining chip. That he wouldn't hurt her.

Yeah right. Daryl himself had been at the receiving end of the Governor's twisted sense of hospitality and he involuntarily shuddered at the memory. Hoped nobody noticed. They meant well but couldn't they see their lies were just making him feel worse? Crowding round him, the ones who didn't know him touching him tentatively until he jerked away, only trying to comfort him but making him feel more trapped. When the only person he wanted was standing by his side. And Rick was still out of it, apparently. Had selfishly chosen this critical moment to have a breakdown. Daryl wish he'd had the luxury of taking a break from reality.

Should have been him who had to make the decision – not Daryl. With everyone watching him, giving their opinions in hushed tones but it had to be him to make final decision. Jus' 'cos Rick had said that they weren't a democracy.

He'd never wanted to be the leader – to shoulder the responsibility of keeping all these people from becoming dead or worse - turning undead.

He suddenly felt a wave of impotent rage welling up towards the leader, his friend, his other brother. Where the fuck was he? When was he going to come out of Crazyville?

You're nothing, a nobody, never gonna be nobody. Ain't no one ever gonna love a piece of worthless, useless shit like you. He shivered. No girl ever gonna want ya, ya redneck piece of trash. Even ya Mama never loved ya 'cos ya ugly and ya bad. Who could love ya?

Can't keep no-one safe – ya useless, everyone dies around ya. Better leave now before someone else gets killed 'cos of you.

Yeah -better leave now, little brother. Merle had caught the trail of his thoughts. His voice in Daryl's head was wheedling, seductive and so, so tempting. We can be together, bring pretty littl' Beth for us to share. Ya chose the right pussy and hey, we'll need the entertainment. Jus' ya and me, boy, like old times.

Daryl glared over at him, hard. Fuck off, Merle. He wasn't going to rise to his bait. 'I'm going to get her back and kill that bastard once and for all. And ya gonna help me. Daryl commanded his older brother and felt gratified with his newly acquired authority when even Merle dropped his gaze and didn't argue. No snide or sarcastic comeback either.

Maggie, Glenn, Herschel, and a few newcomers he didn't recognise were talking at him, crowding him. Probably refugees from Woodbury - some smart citizens had got wise to the Governor and defected.

But these well-meaning people were making everything worse and his head was throbbing. 'Cos he didn't believe them. It was just empty platitudes, so he abruptly shook them off. 'Let's go?' He looked pointedly at Beth and when she nodded, he grabbed her hand to lead her back to their cell. And he didn't give a shit how many people who didn't know stared at them. He just had to escape, get away.

But he didn't want to be alone tonight if she would stay with him.

Glenn raised an eyebrow and Herschel took a step forward but thought better of it while Merle smirked dirtily.

Didn't matter, everyone knew now. It was out in the open. He never liked sneaking around, that weren't the Dixon way, but she'd insisted on the secrecy and he wasn't keen on telling people either. Probably she'd been worried about telling Daddy that her boyfriend was more than double her age and one of the rough redneck brothers with limited social skills to boot. Surely, Herschell had envisaged a better man for his precious baby daughter before world went to shit. But in the end, he'd accepted her choice, although he'd been naturally shocked at first.

Daryl knew now that their secret was out, normally there would have been gossip and judgements passed but with Carol captured and Rick out of action, people had other things to think about. Now they just accepted it - that was the one upside to the situation.

At least he wouldn't feel like he was committing a crime by just being with her any more – the one good thing that had come out of all of this. But all the time, guilt was gnawing at the back of his mind - could he have saved them both? Had he made the wrong decision?

She let him gently tug her along without a word because she sensed that he was overwhelmed by it all. That he needed silence and her to just be there.

When they got back to his cell, he released her hand in silence without even looking at her, shed his boots and curled up on the bed with his back to her. Pulled his knees into his chest to make himself as small as possible.

He was shaking with fatigue as the memories crowded around him again – assaulting him with their grief. Sophia coming out of the barn, snarling and bloody, limping and her mother reaching out to her. Of him holding Carol back because the girl would have ripped out her mother's throat if she could have done. He closed his eyes to shut out the images.

The unspoken promise that he'd made to the people he loved to protect and keep them safe. And the way they looked at him – but he didn't deserve any of it. The weight of all of it crushing him.

All the promises he'd ever broken.

He'd never found Sophia in time. Never brought back Carol's daughter to her, alive and well. Hadn't kept his promise to her.

She'd forgiven him but that didn't mean that he had ever forgiven himself for breaking that promise to her. Now she was a prisoner of the Governor and he'd practically ignored her since he got together with Beth.

He'd never forgive himself for letting her out of his sight. For letting her get captured, letting her get hurt. For maybe making the wrong choice. He didn't even want to think about what the bastard was doing to her right at this moment.

If he ever got her back, he was going to make it up to her.

Beth got onto the bed with him and moulded the front of her body to the back of his without a word. So that she was pressing her forehead into the small of his back. Somehow, incredibly, their bodies were a perfect fit and she pulled the rough, scratchy prison blankets over the both of them, knowing that Daryl wouldn't. Would punish himself in his guilt and suffering if she let him. Finally, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, passing them under his shoulder blades when he raised them to let her. Held him like that until his trembling slowed, then stopped as he finally fell into a fitful, twitchy sleep. It occurred to her that a year ago he would have pushed her away – he hadn't liked any kind of physical contact then.

He'd got better. He'd taught her how to fight and well, she'd taught him- other things.

But now they were together. She didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort him with words too, like the others.

Didn't even try.

She knew that he would blame himself, whatever she said.

Knew there was nothing she could say.

There was only one thing to do that could make it right.

Keep the promise he'd made to the Governor - to kill him and get Carol back.

It was time to pay back his debts.


	25. Chapter 25 The Morning After  Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a nice day but the mood at the prison is naturally bleak. People are worried about what is happening to Carol at the Governor's hands and Rick is in another zone, lucky him. Some AU/ supernatural elements. And there's gonna be all kinds of fallout from the events from the night before and there's debts to be paid and promises to be kept.  
> How/will they get Carol back and what kind of condition will she be in? And will the Governor finally be defeated?

i.

The dawn chorus woke him shortly before the sun rose, shining through the grilled bars of the cell onto his face. Bathed the sleeping young girl's face lying next to him – making her look even younger. 

But he didn't have to sleep alone no more. He turned his head and breathed in Beth – she always smelled of honey – and he liked to bury his head in her hair, even after a hard day's work outside doing things like putting down Walkers through the fence. Must be the baby oil she used when she took care of the baby most nights with him. 

He sighed contently because he didn't have to shy away from another's touch no more. 

Not from the touch of a lover. 

Her arms were warm, still around him like they'd been when he fell asleep. 

'Cos she was there beside him and he almost laughed out loud as she gave an unladylike snore because she always insisted that she didn't.

Then it hit him. They'd been caught unprepared by an alliance between Randall's people (their leader was a guy who was dirtier, scruffier and rougher looking than even him - called Mac) and the Woodbury leader. He wanted to rip their throats out and watch them bleed. He'd given Carol to them to save his teenage girlfriend. Had he made the right choice? He suddenly hated the sun, and the sound of the birds when he'd always loved nature when it had always been a kind of haven for him. Where he felt safe. And Rick was broken, useless. How could they sing so happily when their whole fuckin' world had come crashing down on them?  
He felt a surge of anger and resentment towards the leader then because this should never have been his choice. His fuckin' responsibility. He never wanted to be no leader anyway but he would have probably told Rick to save Beth anyway. But then it wouldn't have been his final decision.  
Of course, it would have killed him to lose her.   
He was gonna make that man wake up – beat him awake if he had to.

At the thought of what tortures the Governor was no doubt already inflicting on Carol, he shuddered. What was he doing to her right at this moment? Would he scar her like he was scarred? Would he violate her?  
A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the way the Governor had looked at him, had touched him. 

Of fuckin' course he would. Daryl never shied away from the reality – would probably be dead by now if he had. Unlike Rick, he thought resentfully. And he couldn't sit around and wait for the others to plan a rescue. But she was strong. He had to hope that she would hold out until he could get to her. Maybe he could try and use his gift and find out where exactly she was being held – probably the same place he'd been when he was there. However, he'd been too exhausted and drained last night to try but then, it didn't always work.   
But if it did, they could plan a rescue that might have a chance in hell of being successful. Although he knew that that crazy bastard would be expecting it. 

But he couldn't do it alone neither. Was Rick back? If not, he knew he''d have to try and him back and he thought he knew how. If it worked. He couldn't waste any more time he thought as he gently disengaged Beth's arms from around him so that he didn't disturb her. She stirred but didn't wake up – probably exhausted by her ordeal. He should let her sleep.

First, though, he had to do something. And to be honest, he was dreading seeing what was happening to the woman who hadn't been afraid to reach out to him first. Who had made him feel safe. Who understood. And anyway, whatever what was happening, he wouldn't be able to stop it. Could only stand there and watch.   
Torture himself as she was being tortured. That's even if he could go walking. 

 

ii.

About an hour later, Beth stirred and felt her arms empty and panicked for a moment but then reasoned Daryl wouldn't do anything rash – like go storming off to Woodbury by himself? Get himself killed on a pointless suicide rescue mission? He wouldn't, would he? No matter how much he wanted to get Carol back? He'd wanted to go last night as soon as the enemy left the gates but the others had convinced him of the futility of it in his exhausted state. And that the Governor would be expecting this and worse – would even welcome it. No, they had to be smarter than that, do something Woodbury wouldn't expect. But what?   
It still hurt like hell to leave someone behind. 

Meanwhile, the guilt gnawed at her now that Carol was probably a dead woman despite the Governor's assurances. Would die a slow and horribly, painful death instead of her. Might even be ... – she knew what kind of people the enemy were from up close experience and she didn't even want to think about that. For her. Why? She wasn't worth it – she wasn't a good person, not like Carol. She was jealous, spiteful and selfish. She'd been downright rude to the mild woman when she'd warned her to stay away from Daryl. But she'd wanted him so much. Had deliberately shut her out. Hadn't known that the woman had so little time left. Should she tell him? How would he react? He'd be angry – maybe regret choosing her. He'd probably dump her. Despise her forever. And she couldn't stand that Carol would suffer for her sake.  
But she couldn't even say that she wished Daryl hadn't chosen her – 'cos she weren't strong, she was a coward. She knew that the first time they hurt her, she would cry and scream for mercy. After all, she had silently begged Daryl to choose her with her eyes and when he had, she'd breathed a sigh of relief.

She weren't worth it. Had been stupid enough to get herself caught – had been a liability. Daryl would realise this and he would dump her. Despise her forever. And anyway, she was afraid that everyday she would be a reminder of his guilt, his regret – his bad decision. Of the woman he'd lost – had sacrificed for her. That he would eventually grow to resent her.

She forced herself despondently to get out of bed when on normal days (so-called normal days around here were when no-one died or was attacked) she was happy-go-lucky. But she remembered she hadn't always been like that – just after most of her family had been wiped out in the Apocalypse and she'd wanted to join them. Had had her own breakdown just like the ex-Sheriff was having now. 

She found that she didn't blame Rick at all.

iii.

Daryl threw his boots on and had a quick wash. Strode along purposefully on his way to the Infirmary. No-one called out 'Hi' or 'Mornin' to him, like they normally did, everybody was feeling down, naturally. Even the relative newcomers who didn't know Carol that well – the black mood was over the whole prison. They'd sacrificed one of their own. He had to find Rick – know what the situation was with him because maybe he had a plan.  
One of the new women, a blonde about fortyish – Sandra, he thought her name was – called out to him. Tried to make him take a bowl of porridge but he didn't have time, 'No!' he almost yelled at her. He felt a little bad when he saw her astonishment at his apparent rudeness but then she didn't know him very well. Anyway, how could anyone expect him to think about food when Carol was a prisoner of that sadistic psycho who God knows what was doing to her? While they were sitting around doing nothing? And the anxiety for her was making his stomach feel like it was doing cartwheels.

He burst into the Infirmary and startled Herschel and on of his aides – a young dark-haired man with basic medical training. Johnny had been half-way through medical school in town when the Apocalypse broke out. 

But even a half-baked doctor was better than none. 

'How is he?' Daryl asked abruptly without so much as a 'Good Mornin'. No time to waste.

They knew who he meant. The vet shook his head and waved over to a bed drawn with curtains.

'How's Beth holding up? Not feeling bad, is she?' Her father asked him.

'She's OK.' Daryl curtly brushed his question off, got back to the urgent matter at hand. 'I wanna see 'im.' He demanded.

'Go ahead. But don't be shocked. We had to restrain him.' But Daryl was making a statement, not asking for Permission.   
He went to the bed and roughly jerked back the curtains and then took a step back without meaning to. Because despite Herschell's warning, he was shocked at his friend's appearance, only partly because in the space a few hours, the leader seemed to have shrunk somehow. Been diminished. 

Rick was pale with dark shadows under his eyes. There were cuts and swollen bruises over his head and face and his knuckles were scraped raw and bloodied too. Blood seeped even through the bandages. Worst of all, his hands and feet were tied to the raised bars of the hospital bed with the soft restraints used for mental patients. His unseeing eyes were upturned towards the ceiling and he made no sign that he knew that he was there. And Daryl hated restraints, cuffs of any kind. He trembled for the man he had started to think of as another brother. 

'He was banging his head against the wall in one spot when we found him. Lucky he didn't have time to do much damage. Looks worse than it is.' Herschel had come up beside him. 'Then he just went like this.'

Daryl couldn't help but be shocked. 'Banging his head against the wall in one spot? Last time he was at least movin', up and about - killin' Walkers and shit. That mean he worse this time?'

Herschel looked at the Hunter in surprise at his insight. 'I'm no expert but it would seem so...'

'Fuck.' Daryl rubbed his eyes and Johnny stared at him. 'What we gonna do?'

'It could be some kind of catatonic shock, a purely psychological disorder, nothin' physically wrong with him.' Johnny contributed. 'He opens his mouth for food and drink when we give it to him.'

'Real great time to have a breakdown when we had the enemy knockin' on our door last night. Way to go, man.' Daryl snarled at the unconscious man and advanced nearer to the bed.

'Son, that's really not going to help ...' 

But he couldn't contain his anger and betrayal at the leader they'd all trusted so long, who had now abandoned them. He clenched his fists and loomed aggressively over the stricken man because he'd got to take the easy way out. 'Ya know that sick fuck in Woodbury got Carol? Probably torturin' her right now...' His voice was rising in volume although he didn't mean it to.

'Daryl, calm down or get out, son.' Herschel ordered him quietly but firmly.

Daryl was about to storm out in rage but then stopped, turned back. Forcing himself to calm down. Remembered what he wanted to try and do, only the shock of seeing Rick in that state had made him momentarily forget. 'Wait, let me try somethin'.

'Not if you're gonna get all riled up and upset. He might be able to hear you, you know.' 

'No - just give me a chance, I think I can get him back. But I need to be alone with 'im.'

The other two men looked at each other. 'Mind tellin' me how you're gonna do that?'

'I can't explain – it's...um... like hypnosis or somethin'. Herschel looked at Daryl in wonder – the boy was really full of surprises.

But then again, they'd all had to open their minds a little more once the dead started walking the earth and devouring the living.

Johnny shrugged. 'Can't hurt as long as he goes easy on 'im. As long as he doesn't break his bones or give 'im internal bleedin'. Trying to make light of the situation but not completely joking either. Daryl was intimidating and the frenetic energy and anger was coming off the man in waves.

Daryl rolled his eyes then tried his most trustworthy smile, teeth bared. Which usually made people run away.

'Can't hurt. We've stalled.' Herschel gave in. 'But we need to be here to supervise.' He added.

'Ya can't. Won't work. I have to be alone with 'im.'

Herschel looked at his assistant. 'OK, but we're going to be outside this door and at the first sign he shows of physical distress or if he wakes up – you call us in, ya hear?'

'OK. OK,' Daryl impatiently waved them away. Took a deep breath as they left.   
Had pretended more confidence than he actually felt. Didn't know how shit like this worked.   
'Cos it was only a theory, really. He'd never thought to try it before.

He was going to try and walk into Rick's mind and guide the man back. 

He trembled, he was afraid. But Dixons didn't feel fear. What would he find in there? What if he couldn't get out again? If he became trapped in Rick's mind forever? The both of them in there?

But it was Rick. Wholesome, decent.

Never abused his wife or his son.

But everyone had secrets, dark fantasies they kept hidden.

Merle had always sneeringly called him Righteous Rick.

Rick would walk through fire, through a whole valley of Walkers to save him. 

He knew.

Rick loved him. Would have done the same for Daryl if he could have done. So Daryl would return the favour.

He forced the fear back down into his chest. So that he couldn't feel it no more. 

He weren't no pussy, he were a Dixon. He'd faced worse and won. He was a survivor. And he was going to save two people he loved. 

His family.


	26. Chapter 26: The Morning After: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol is being held hostage by the prisoner – but things are not what they seem despite the Governor's assurances that she would not be harmed. Is she just being held as a hostage or as bait or what is the Governor's real plan for her and the prison community? I hope that this chapter is creepy and sinister enough.

i.

As soon as they were gone, she compulsively checked the handle of the door even though they'd locked it from the outside, of course, 'For her own protection' or so they had said. So far, the Governor had kept his word – no-one had hurt her – only been a little rough when they dragged her away. But they'd released her hands and put her into this room. Had even offered her food and drink but there was something she didn't trust.

It was late - but she wasn't even sure if she could sleep – didn't trust that man and his lies. Didn't put it past them either to come in the night and drag her out for interrogation when she was fuzzy and vulnerable. She knew what kind of man he was and the worst was this new, civilised veneer. She didn't know what they were up to but she was sure that it wouldn't be good for her or the prison group. Her captor wasn't one to forgive and forget and would seek revenge. Therefore, her only hope was that they would keep her alive as bait for a rescue attempt and that the Governor would keep his word and not harm her. That Daryl and the others would come and get her out of this place. But did she want to live? She had wanted to tell him and the others not to risk their lives and the fragile truce for her. 'Cos she weren't worth it. She wanted to die – but her faith wouldn't allow her to take her own life. Moreover, the loss of her child still stung, same as the day she lost her, the grief had never lessened over time like everyone said it would. And more than anything, she wanted to go and join Sophia in heaven. Besides, her whole life had been a struggle, full of pain and suffering and she felt relief that it would soon be over. And she didn't have to worry about Daryl any more, he'd started to get over his past and he'd finally found someone to love and to love him back. She hadn't believed that they could have lasted as long as they had but maybe she had underestimated the girl. Maybe Beth was stronger than she gave her credit for and she really did care about him. Would be good to him, she hoped, would never hurt him. And Carol knew she could go happy now because she knew he would be OK.

Still, she couldn't help wishing that he had chosen her instead because after those two got together, he had more or less ignored her. Hardly ever went to her cell just to talk. And in the mornings – just gave a curt greeting and he'd moved on. Not lingered to chat like he used to. Gone was the way his eyes used to light up and the edges of his mouth turned up into a grin when he saw her – how could she have been so stupid as to think he would want someone like her? And as people began to accept and respect him, he suddenly had more new people he'd rather spend time with, talk to. And everywhere he went – that girl followed in his wake like his shadow. Silently warning her to keep away with her glare – it was laughable that Beth still saw her as a rival. Carol couldn't believe that no-one, especially her own father, hadn't noticed the feelings the two had for each other. Probably didn't see Daryl that way, after all he had been still too traumatised for a long time to allow anyone to touch him. Combined with the fact that he was old enough to be Beth's father.

Had he forgotten how he used to sleep on the floor of her trailer with his crossbow under his arm as if still protecting her from Walkers even as he slept? How he'd filled up the place left by her missing child a little – made her absence a little easier to bear. And she, in turn, had comforted him like a child when he'd had nightmares about his father and the things he had done to him.

Things worse than even the scars on his back. She knew.

She hadn't thought he was the type of person to forget a friend – had thought he was better than that but she'd been proved wrong. Had his head turned by the pretty 17 year old but now she didn't even have the energy to feel bitter towards them. Just wished them the best.

'Cos they were part of the family who had replaced her own. She prayed that they would be thrive and that their future would be secure in the prison but in her heart of hearts, she didn't believe it. Not until someone came and put the Governor down for good and cleaned Woodbury of all the human trash like Mac. The bastards were just playing with her – she was sure, making her feel safe then they would pounce. But they didn't know what her husband had been like – that she knew how their minds worked. What they would do. Would be waiting and expecting it. And they had said that they had put her in 'quarantine' – pointless because didn't they know that everyone was infected? That as soon as they died – for any reason, they would turn. The only question was only – how long after death?

They were going to hurt her but the worst was not knowing when and how. This ridiculous facade of hospitality was worse.

She tossed and turned, how could she sleep? Despite their reassurances that they wouldn't harm her, she'd heard people whispering outside her door – heard her name mentioned but couldn't hear what was said. And hearing only part of it somehow made it worse.

Still, she had to look on the bright side – the 'quarantine' room was really quite nice, a plush bed propped up with cosy cushions. She even had a book shelf and the room was furnished. Far superior living conditions than they had at the prison. They'd even offered her food but she'd refused – didn't trust them not to poison or drug her. Anyway, she hadn't been hungry.

But she'd had to accept the glass of water – it had tasted fine. Nevertheless, she was still waiting for symptoms – dizziness, stomach cramps, drowsiness – pain. But none came. They'd given her a bucket as a toilet and she'd put it under the bed.

In the morning, they came for her and she saw with relief that the Governor wasn't there. She didn't know if she would have had the strength to face him as well, despite his apparent change of heart. Somehow she'd fallen asleep but was up and dressed before they came. There was a doctor – an elderly medic who cannily looked liked Herschell and two female nurses both young – one blonde, the other dark-haired. She supposed they were there to reassure her but they didn't. Their smiles were too wide, their demeanour too chirpy.

'Good morning. We hope you slept well.' The doctor greeted her courteously but distantly. And something about the way he looked at her, like she was a specimen on a petri-dish made her skin goosebump and she shivered. But then she could be prejudiced - she had never liked hospitals or doctors – had seen her father die slowly, painfully of cancer in one and after her marriage had seen more enough of them to last her a lifetime. Especially after she returned home after she'd lied to Ed so that she could attend the funeral. She trembled involuntarily at the memory when the last thing she ever wanted to do was to show weakness, especially to these people.

'We would like to run some tests, with your consent, of course. For the quarantine.' He continued and even handed her a consent form and a pen to fill in.

Absurdly, she wanted to break into hysterics at this farce. What was this?

'I don't need no tests, I'm healthy.' She countered reasonably.

'It's OK.' one of the nurses said, reassuringly and laid a hand on her shoulder which Carol rudely shook off. Like Daryl would do, she thought to herself with a little inward smile. She had black hair and looked about 25 with that warm smile on her face that was hiding something dark. What it was though, Carol couldn't guess but the woman gave her the creeps. 'We just want to check that you're not infected.'

'Every one of us is infected, don't you people know that? Even that idiot Milton should have figured that out by now.' Carol laughed bitterly. 'No matter how we die, we all turn in the end.'

The nurses and the doctor exchanged glances. And she knew that they had known. Of course they did.

'I'm not signing any damn consent form!' She snapped. Wondering at herself – that didn't sound like her. 'Are you even a real doctor, anyway?' She glanced at him in contempt.

'Right, that's it. We're just going to have to do it by force.' The medic took offence.

'Put her out.'

.To Carol, he only said, almost apologetically, 'We didn't want to have to do it this way but you left us no choice.' Must be his Hippocratic Oath giving him a bad conscience she thought and smothered the urge to giggle hysterically.

Then she fought, she screamed, flailing and lashing out like a trapped animal.

Wondered at herself – behaving like Daryl would have done.

And worse - it was the smiley dark haired nurse who injected her while the other two held her down. Still smiling at her while she did it. And Carol did fight, she did - but then the darkness came and carried her off with it.

ii.

She opened her eyes slowly, her vision fuzzy until she realised that she was looking up at a bright, white ceiling. Realised that it was the bright overhead lights used in surgery rooms. She realised where she was and the knowledge slammed into her.

Of course, Woodbury had its own fully-equipped hospital. Heard voices murmuring around her, fading in and out. And as the fuzziness from the drug wore off, she tried to move her arms and legs. Her panic grew as she couldn't even feel them. What had they done to her while she was out? She couldn't even feel any pain – didn't know if that was a good thing or something ominous.

The voices came into focus. '….as good as dead anyway.'

'If she's a suitable subject...'

'Milton wants...' and the rest of the sentence faded out. 'The Governor …..'

'….keeping her alive as a hostage?..'

She passed out again as she felt them wheel her gurney out of the room.

Later she woke up fully in the room she was on before. Lying on top of the bed covers, fully dressed in the same clothes. Stupidly, she got up woozily, nearly fainting and tried the door. Locked of course. Next thing she worried about the obvious – what the Governor had nearly done to Maggie – she'd heard rumours of what happened to prisoners at Woodbury from the defectors at the prison. But she thought she was OK – there was no tell-tale bruising or soreness. Or any other signs. Maybe they hadn't done that but she still felt violated because the worst thing was not knowing what they had done to her body when she was unconscious. She was worried about what tests they had done on her and why. Had they injected her with anything or taken samples like tissue or blood? Or anything else?

Whatever they had done, she couldn't undo it – she didn't feel unwell as she checked her body. There was no pain and she found the injection mark from the on her anaesthetic on her upper right arm and other needle marks covered by a plaster where they had probably just taken blood (she hoped) from both arms.

She weren't a medic, wouldn't know what she was looking for even if she found it.

Then, reluctantly, the snippets of conversation came back to her while she was semi- conscious.

She didn't know what they meant – she weren't a trained scientist, after all she had barely graduated from high school when she married Ed. He would never allow her to study afterwards. But it sounded like they wanted to use her in some kind of experiment. Quarantine, they'd said but that had been a lie. But something connected – something to do with the Walkers?

'As good as dead...' one of the voices had said and she had shivered. What did that mean?

Her only hope was Milton – get him alone. Appeal to his humanity. He was an idiot but he wasn't a bad man. Just a weak man who had just been held in thrall by the Governor like many people in Woodbury. This thought got her thinking – maybe there was a way of this after all... save both Woodbury and her family.

She needed to know what they had done to her and what they had planned.

For herself and the group's sake.

She heard a polite knock on the door and then they came for her again. Two heavies – looked like Mac's people.

'He wants to see you. ' They said and escorted her to the Governor.


	27. In his Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's got to bring Rick back but what will he find? And Carol is still being held captive by the Governor – they're doing sinister medical tests on her but she doesn't know why. So far they've been treating her well (apart from the tests) but will this change? What's the Governor's plan and will he show his true colours to Carol?

i.

He approached the patient warily, even though Rick was restrained. Fuck, what was he doing? Did he even now how to do it? Was it even going to work?

Willing the man to just wake up but never saw even a flicker of awareness in the eyes staring at the ceiling.

Like hypnosis –yeah, right. He didn't know how to explain it, or say what it was.

He reached out to Rick warily, started humming some old, lost language that his Mama used to sing to him while she rocked him on her lap and the memory made him smile. One of the few good memories from his childhood. And he didn't know what he was doing – just let the words slip out of his mouth.

'Daryl, are you OK?' He heard Herschell call out to him. Damn. He'd made him lose his thread. He rolled his eyes.

'I'm just singin'– helps me focus.'

On the other side of the door, Johnny looked at Herschell sceptively. 'Since when did singing have anything to do with hypnosis? And what language is that anyway?' He whispered because he was still worried that the aggressive redneck would hear and come storming out in rage. But his singing was surprisingly gentle and in tune. And the language – whatever it was, wasn't unpleasant.

Was lulling Johnny to sleep actually.

Daryl placed two palms flat against the sides of Rick's head. Hell, he didn't know what he was doing – was some kind of instinct of somethin'. But he'd been able to read Merle's mind and vice versa sometimes. Must be something in it. And the words were just streaming out of him now - faster and faster – and he didn't even know what they meant. He'd heard of talking in tongues in church but hadn't believed in that shit.

He closed his eyes – started to feel his hands grow warm, like there was energy passing between them. Felt himself drawn forward.

Felt himself falling.

Landed with a bump. There was hardly any light, of course – he could only see a few feet in front of him – how the hell did that work? Although it sounded cheesy, Rick really was in a dark place. Except what looked like fires in the distance Daryl decided to make his way towards them. He felt a brick path under his naked feet. Rick, what the fuck? Don't be goin' all yellow brick road on me now. At the sides the road, he sensed tall things like trees.

Where the hell was Rick and how could he find him?

Only thing to do was go forward.

First he saw was Shane – half-turned, bloody with a deep stab wound to his stomach, shirt ripped, come shambling towards him. Instinctively, Daryl reached for his crossbow, for his dagger – for a weapon but but then remembered that he didn't have one with him. Couldn't bring one with him. Making him feel defenceless and vulnerable. However, Shane stumbled towards him but luckily stopped.

'Rick killed me.' He told Daryl who only sneered at him.

'Well, then, you must have fuckin' deserved it.' Daryl replied mercilessly. Had never liked him. Remembered how he had put him in a choke-hold and pinned him down.

And the other things.

'All I did was look after his family. We thought he was dead.'

'Yeah, you looked after his wife real well.'

Shane conveniently ignored the innuendo. 'We grew up like brothers and he still killed me.' Raised his bloody hands to Daryl in supplication.

Daryl's eyes narrowed. 'Don't give a shit. Only because you were gonna kill him first, 'cos ya always were a low-lying snake in the grass. He had to kill ya. ' Daryl said and taking a gamble, rudely pushed past the shambling half-Walker.

Carried on walking, didn't even look back to see if Shane was pursuing him. Made his way to what looked like fires in the distance. Realised then that these phantoms couldn't touch him.

'Rick...' He called. 'Where the fuck are you, brother?'

No answer. Carried on walking towards the fires on the horizon.

God, he hated this place. Was like hell. And Rick wanted to stay here?

Then he saw a small figure shambling along the road towards him. Without meaning to, he cringed back slightly as the child came into view. Thank God, she was not like she was when she'd come out of the barn.

Sophia. Dragging her doll with her.

Her clothes filthy, she was thin and bedraggled.

'You didn't save me, you didn't find me in time.' He trembled at her words but then realised that she could have been accusing any one of them. 'You left me and told me to wait in the water but I got scared and ran away. And you never found me.' Daryl realised that she was talking about Rick but it still didn't make him feel any better as the failure and guilt stabbed into him all over again.

'Baby, I tried.' He told her. 'We all did. Especially Rick. He tried to save ya.'

'Too late. I'm dead now.' She walked past he didn't look back at her, something told him that if he did, like Orpheus, he would suffer for it.

Nothing for it but to keep moving forward. A dark building loomed up ahead, past the the line of bonfires lining the moat.

What would he find there? Hopefully Rick was in there and he could drag him back out.

Rick, ya seriously fucked up bro, if this is your mind.

ii

He was waiting for her when they brought her in. Sitting there, half a glass of Scotch on rocks on the table and smoking a cigar. Motioned for her to sit down. Staring at her with his one good eye. The heavies retreated to standing guard outside the door after they shut it behind them. Their politeness and deliberate courtesy didn't sit well on them and only served to unnerve her further.

Something weren't right. They should be beating her, torturing her by now.

Doing things to her.

Now it was just her and the Governor. And she shuddered despite herself.

' I hope that you slept well and find our – accommodation satisfactory.' He began courteously. 'We also apologise for keeping you here against your will.'

'Well, then, if you really feel that bad, then send me back home.' She tried, knowing it was useless.

He sighed as if in deep regret and shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm afraid that isn't going to work. See, your group attacked us unprovoked and we need you as guarantee of our safety.'

Liar! Liar! You were going to make Daryl and Merle fight to the death. Force brothers to fight to the death. We had to rescue him. You attacked us unprovoked!

But she still said nothing.

'Is that why your doing tests on me?'

He was taken aback in apparent surprise. Ooh, he was good.

'We have to check everybody for quarantine.'

'I never signed no consent form!' Her voice was rising with her anger. 'Anyway, don't you know that we're all infected?'

She stood her ground like she never would have dared to against her dead husband.

Shit happens and people change. I ain't the same meek little mouse I used to be. Besides she wanted answers to what they'd done to her body against her will.

He remained calm. 'We have our rules. The consent form was a mere courtesy – make people feel like they were involved in the process. That they have a choice. Anyway, nobody fully understands the Biter virus – probably the only people who could have done and come up with a cure or vaccine are already dead. Jus' us laymen stumblin' 'bout in the dark.' He grinned ruefully, trying to charm her.

She crossed her arms. She knew she wasn't going to get any answers from him – clearly he had a plan that he was never going to tell her.

'Well, why do you want to see me?' She demanded rudely, surprised at herself.

'I only wanted to see that they you were being treated well.' He replied evenly, so sincerely she almost believed him. But she knew better. 'You can go back now. Rest. You must be tired.' He looked down at the desk, dismissing her and then waved her away. He clicked his fingers and somehow the guards heard it through the door and came to escort her back to her room.

After she left, the Governor steepled his fingers over the desk. He hoped she would be suitable. He had great plans for her. Especially when the redneck arrived – felt himself growing hard at the thought. Fun-times for the both her and her boyfriend when he came to the rescue. He didn't think she was fooled though - she was smarter than she looked. What excited him the most was that she had that air of vulnerability whenshe trembled like her boyfriend did, despite her defiance. Knew that someone had broken her once, he wondered who, just like Daryl's father had broken him. He would enjoy him even more than her or any of the others.

He liked breaking broken people again. Seeing the hope die out of their eyes, replaced by despair when they saw their loved ones suffer and die in front of them.

Yes, he would enjoy these two love-birds.

That night, she woke up when Daryl sneaked into her room and she didn't ask the obvious questions because she was so overjoyed to see him again, standing there almost shyly with his crossbow. And he her – he breathed a sigh of relief as he touched her cheek gently as if he couldn't really believe she was there – alive and well and apparently unharmed. And she never asked him how he'd got there past the guards and the wall and unlocked her door, didn't ask him why he came alone. And she never mentioned the tests, maybe they were nothing – she hoped they had only taken blood. But there was no time to talk – they had to get out of there – anyway, they had all the time to catch up once they were safe back at the prison. She went towards the door but he stopped her, shook his head sadly. 'I'm coming for ya, just wait for me. Hold on. We'll get ya out.' He said as he took both her hands in his and kissed them in a very unDaryl-like gesture. 'Promise.'

She shook her own head in disbelief but then she had the sensation of falling and the world spun around them making her feel dizzy. Finally she woke up with a sharp jolt, disappointment hit her hard and the nightdress they had given her was drenched in sweat. She really thought she was going to be rescued.

'Oh Daryl, ' she murmured. It had only been a dream but it had given her hope. And she would take any hope wherever she could get it. Besides, she still seemed to feel the touch of his lips on her hands. She laid them on top of the coverlet because she didn't want to lose that warm feeling.

She smiled as she turned over to sleep again. Blissfully unaware (or trying not to think) that things would get worse. Had adopted this mindset of living from day to day to help her survive living with her husband.

But they were going to get a lot worse for her. She just didn't know it yet.


	28. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the demons that maybe made Rick retreat into himself was his guilt about his infidelity to Lori (although she cheated on him with Shane but she did think he was dead to be fair). Still, she didn't wait that long. Also, his upbringing was pretty traditional and conservative in rural Georgia and that kind of thing was frowned upon. Not that he had anything against homosexuals himself but he can't understand why he would suddenly fall for another man when he's been straight his whole life, never even experimented as a youth.
> 
> This chapter is based on Chapter 11 Out of my mind and Chapter 19 Ambush but you don't have to read them to understand what's going on but of course, I'd like it if you did. Merle is going all out homicidal overprotective big brother when he confronts Rick. Well, it's Merle – so expect some filthy language and homophobic ranting.

Rick said goodnight to Daryl and enjoyed watching him strut off in that sexy way of his and the way his tight ass moved even though there was nothing like that between them any more as he made his last round of the perimeter fence. But he couldn't stop himself looking secretly even now their relationship had taken a more brotherly, platonic turn. And he pushed down the lingering feelings of shame and guilt, not only because of Lori but because where he came from – a man who had sex with another man was a pervert who was going to go to burn in hell. Sex was only between a man and woman in order to produce children. And he'd listened to the homophobic and racist rantings of his parents his whole life. Nevertheless, he was smiling to himself quietly, thinking how much sweeter it had been with Daryl than it had ever been with Lori. Or with any woman before, when he actually thought about it. But then he didn't have much to compare it to, he'd only had one high -school sweetheart before he met her. Shane had always teased him about his relative inexperience compared to him (he was a high school jock and therefore a stud) when he bragged about banging his 30 year old gym class teacher. Rick was just reminiscing about the past - about Daryl and Shane when he felt someone brutally push one arm up his back and a knife digging into his throat. First thing he thought – he hadn't heard anyone behind him and secondly – that one of the enemy had infiltrated the prison.

But strangely, he didn't feel fear – he'd been waiting for this – either an enemy or a Walker would finish him off one day. Was just sad for his boy who'd he leave behind and never see grow up.

But he never really believed that he was actually going to die. But then his attacker moved the blade from his throat to his between his legs. To his groin, dangerously near his genitals. While he twisted his arm painfully further up his back and Rick hissed in pain.

The consequences if he tried to move were clear.

'Bastard. Sick fuck.' The heavily accented voice whispered in his ear, full of gravelly rage. He knew that redneck voice.

'Did ya fuckin' touch him? Hurt him?' The knife slid upwards, dangerously closer. 'If ya hurt my littl' brother, I'm gonna slit up ya balls and feed 'em to ya.'

Merle had found out about his secret tryst with Daryl somehow and was going to castrate him for it. How?

'Merle? What...?' He'd silently crept up behind him with that same uncanny stalking ability that he shared with Daryl. While Rick was distracted, daydreaming about his brother.

'Ya know what. Don't ya be playin' the innocent with me.' With that, the knife rapidly moved upwards as he swiped Rick's throat and then roughly released him, shoving him against the fence. The leader instinctively put his hands to his throat and they came away bloody. Strange, he'd hardly felt a thing.

'What... Why?' He gasped. Then he was afraid. His eyes were wide and terrified as he met those of his killer.

'I should have butchered ya balls and gutted ya like a hog for what ya did to poor baby Daryl.' Merle laughed bitterly. 'Don't mean I still won't.' He threatened darkly.

And Rick understood that he meant that it was only shallow cut, a mere nick, as it began to sting and felt the blood dripping down his neck.

'Don't worry, If I wanted to kill ya, ya be dead already, ya fuck. Might scar, though. Call it payback for little Darlena.' Merle glared at him with murderous hatred.

'What?...I don't understand...'

Merle suddenly grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the fence again. Rick struggled but he'd been caught by surprise, also he was starting to feel faint, maybe from the loss of blood? Was Merle telling the truth that it was only a nick? Or was he just playing with him, making him think that he hadn't really slit his throat and really watching him die with that homicidal rage in his eyes? And he felt fear not for himself but for his family and the group. Would they make it without him?

He desperately tried to fumble for his gun on his belt. Merle was so furious that he didn't even notice.

'What did ya do, ya cocksucker? What did ya do to her?' But he put his blade back in its sheath on his belt.

Rick was sure he'd misheard. Forgot about getting his gun out of the holster in his surprise. Must have done – Merle didn't just call his brother 'her', did he? Apparently, he hadn't noticed his own slip. Rick decided to ignore it and try to reason with him instead. Used his quiet, soothing cop voice. 'Look, I don't know what you think happened between your brother and me...'

Should have know it wouldn't work on the elder Dixon brother even if it worked on Daryl. 'Don't fuckin' lie to me. He let it slip even though he didn't have to.' Merle growled.

What – Daryl told him about us? Why? What if Lori found out? The group? Last thing he needed was Merle going into all overprotective psycho big brother mode. And it was a just a one off stupid experiment – a mistake. They were drunk for fuck's sake – just two guys fooling around and it was never gonna happen ever again. And what's it got to do with him anyway – we were consenting adults.

'Yeah, I know. But he didn't have to tell me. I always know everythin' when it comes to Baby Brother. I always know when he's scared or hurtin'.

Daryl got scared? Rick couldn't imagine Daryl being afraid of anything. Except of being restrained. Or touched, of course. He'd seen him face down hordes of Walkers without a blink and seen him ravage his way through them.

'Well, I guess ya didn't know what your father was doing to him after you abandoned him, did you?' Rick couldn't help this below-the-belt comeback, even though he knew it was stupidly suicidal. Because his own anger was rising up now the bleeding was slowing, Merle hadn't hit an artery and he wasn't going to die or be castrated, apparently. 'Yeah, Daryl told me you disappeared when he was ten.'

Merle snarled and shook him and gave him one last hard shove into the fence while Rick struggled. Hit a nerve, did I? The ex-cop thought triumphantly as to himself as they tusseled and he drew back his fist and punched Merle full in the face. Started fighting back, taking control of the situation. Finally got his gun out and trained it on the Dixon who backed off but still stood him off confrontationally. Rage and contempt etched all over the hard lines of his face.

'Now, I know you're upset, Merle and I'll let ya have that one.' Rick told him calmly (and I know your family history) while rubbing his throat. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. Probably there'd be no scar – Merle was just fucking with him but it was little more than a scratch but it was still stinging like a bitch and he'd have to go to the Infirmary and get patched up. He didn't know how he was going to explain it away - Herschel was going to be suspicious. 'But only the one.' He continued levelly, trying to diffuse the situation.'Ya attack me again, I'm gonna lock ya up in one of those cells and throw away the key for good this time, no matter what Daryl says.'

Merle ignored the threat but kept his distance. Narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 'Ya sick. Did ya have to force him? I bet ya did 'cos no way is Darlena a pansy homo fag. Ya must have threatened him with ya gun and cuffed him to the bed jus' like his fuckin' Daddy did and ya knew he did. Ya know he's been cryin' in my arms because of all the sick things that bastard did to him? Now ya gone and done exact same thin'. Bet ya been wantin' him probably since the day ya met him – 'cos little brother has that effect on people once they get to know him. If he lets ya near 'im, that is.'

And Rick was taken aback. No, he hadn't known that. Daryl cried? He couldn't imagine Daryl ever crying – he was the toughest person he'd ever met. Hard as nails. Nor could he imagine anyone daring to cry in Merle's arms. Or Merle letting them and not tearing them apart, for that matter. Seemed there was lot about the brothers he didn't know.

But he'd seen how Merle was with Daryl before – stroking his hair with surprising tenderness when he'd freaked out because they wanted to cuff him after he attacked Ed. And realised that Merle, did in his own warped way, genuinely love his brother. And that's when Merle had confided in him the damn sorry tale of Daryl's bad past. Why he was like the way he was. And Rick had never told another soul – wasn't his secret to tell.

Had tried not to think of it every time he looked at him – to treat him the same as everyone else.

Then he realised that Merle was saying all the things to him that he couldn't say to his father because he was already dead. And Rick never wanted to be on the receiving end of Merle's vengeance but now it looked like he was. He guessed he was lucky that he wasn't dead already because somehow, he'd replaced their father in the older Dixon's mind. Merle couldn't make his father pay for Daryl but he wanted someone to pay.

'Don't matter if ya think ya straight or a fag, man or woman. Everyone always wants pretty, sweet little Darlena once they get to know him. Same as Slimy Shane did.'

Rick was shocked at that – not sure if he believed it. And he wouldn't use the words 'pretty' or 'little' to describe Daryl who was neither. But on the other hand he did remember how Shane seemed to enjoy overpowering Daryl with a little more force than was necessary. Held him down a little longer than he had to. And he didn't know what it was between the two brothers, why Merle sometimes called Daryl by a girl's name and acted like a jealous big brother defending his little sister's honour. Protecting him like a man would a female. Or the possessiveness, the jealousy. No doubt the extreme childhood abuse had made Merle's natural big brotherly protective instincts go into overdrive. Even into adulthood.

The guilt, too, he imagined. Probably feeling like he let it happen when he left Daryl behind with their father.

'Merle, Daryl's a grown man and he's fully capable of protecting himself. Do you really believe that I could make him do anything he didn't want to do? He'd slit my throat in a second before I could.'

Merle snickered. Then Rick realised that he'd chosen the wrong words according to the present situation.

'This is all very embarrassing – I ain't what ya call a pansy homo fag either. I'm a married man with a kid and I never did nothin' with another man before. Never wanted to, either. Straight as they come. It was jus' a stupid, drunken mistake...won't happen again. Neither of us want it to.'

Merle smirked like he didn't believe any ofthat.

'I fuckin' hate your kind – fags, perverts and kiddie fuckers but I never thought ya were one. And it better fuckin' not, Officer Friendly. Ya fuck ya son too?' Merle laughed dirtily at this. 'But ya ever lay one finger on my baby brother ever again, I'm gonna finish off what I started today. Oh, and we don't need to tell anyone – I don't want people to know that my little brother is a cock-sucking fag.' He licked his lips suggestively as he leered at him. 'And I'm sure ya don't want ya wife to know ya one too. Ya dirty little secret's safe with me.'

Rick knew that he shouldn't have stood for that but he couldn't think of an equally vicious and filthy comeback to the typical Dixon tongue-lashing as Merle strode off. Hated letting him have the last word.

So, he let it go. He was mortified that Daryl's brother knew. Hated how dirty and shitty he made him feel like he'd taken advantage of Daryl somehow.

When Daryl had already been broken.


	29. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWE'EN! I HOPE THE GOVERNOR IS CREEPY ENOUGH!
> 
> Rick is a prisoner in his own mind, Carol is a prisoner in Woodbury and the Governor is prisoner of his own desires.
> 
> Carol is so far being treated well apart from the ominous 'tests'. What is Woodberry up to? Nothing good, certainly and we fnd out more in this chapter. Meanwhile, can Daryl make Rick face his demons and pull him back to reality and what is he going to find in his mind? Because time is running out for Carol. Sorry about the last chapter – a bit of a diversion. I couldn't resist overprotective psycho big brother Merle going after Rick because he thinks he took advantage of poor Daryl.
> 
> By the way I'm not a medic or scientist so sorry if some details are not very realistic. I did my best.

i.

He trembled as Sophia brushed past him – the brief contact as light as gossamer wings but he didn't look back – something telling him not to. Was dangerous if he did – maybe he'd be trapped here. 

So, she haunted Rick as well, did she?

Because he was sure as hell that she had never haunted Shane. Daryl had no pity for the man but Rick was obviously still cut up with guilt for killing the best friend he grew up with. Who'd been like a brother to him his whole life. 

Daryl could understand that. Now Rick was like another brother to him – same as Merle. 

And he couldn't help wondering what Rick would find in his own mind if their roles were reversed. Probably his fuckin' father among other things but Daryl didn't feel guilty for killing him. Same thing with Shane – Rick had to kill him or be killed. Didn't he realise? Shane had become unstable – the lies - the insane jealousy - was dangerous for the group. Didn't Rick realise that he had to kill him to protect everyone else as well?

Come on Rick. Bring on the demons. I'm ready. 

He made his way to the dark building – the fires getting nearer. It was getting lighter too. 

On the way, he met more of Rick's demons. People who'd died like T-Dog and Amy. That black woman whose name he couldn't remember who'd given up at the crazy Doc's place. All the people who Rick felt responsible for - for keeping them safe. Some looked like they were alive, others looked half-walkerfied - shambling along. 

Even Ed. Why did he feel bad about that asshole? Daryl didn't even grace him with a word. Just a contemptuous sneer as he rudely brushed past him. Thinking that if the bastard wasn't already dead that he'd butcher him like a hog. 

If he had a weapon, that was.

Worse was Dale – shambling painfully along, trailing bloody footprints, dragging his entrails behind him. Never had a chance to turn luckily, thanks to Daryl. 

'Miss ya, brother.' Daryl said wistfully to him, deliberately not looking down – only addressing his face. 'I never wanted to do it.' But Dale only gazed at him with that penetrating gaze of his that saw everything and carried on past him. 

But the people Daryl expected to see didn't appear. Must be in that building up ahead.

Of fuckin' course. Because as he drew nearer, Daryl saw that it was a dark fortress high up on a craggy cliff. The fires burned, their reflections wavering on the dark waters of the moat. 

He wished he had a weapon. Felt vulnerable and exposed without his crossbow.  
But he didn't think he needed it. He hoped not anyway. No guards.

What was locked up in that fortress?

Daryl thought he knew and he shuddered. But he kept going forward. 

ii.

Milton was bumbling round the lab. Going from one sterile work bench to the other. Pointlessly moving the equipment taken from Atlanta CDC – stuff like glass phials, petri-dishes and surgical instruments. ECG machines, drugs and bandages. Bottles of chemicals. 

Research notes. Not that he could understand them.

Today, he didn't feel very good. Was nervous as the blue bruise stood out sharply on his pale skin. And he was starting to get pangs of conscience that he wasn't sure if the things they were doing were ethical. In fact, he knew they weren't and any of the bullshit he used to justify them - the world has moved on and we have to move on with it to survive, the old world and its rules are gone etc etc didn't quieten his conscience none. He jumped at a particularly loud Biter growl from the holding pens behind them and he couldn't help the visions invading his mind of them getting loose and swarming all over the lab.

All over Woodbury. Snarling, biting, infecting everyone in their wake. 

Maybe that would be a good thing. His own dark thoughts surprised him. 

The Governor was getting nervous, impatient – was demanding results. It wasn't smart to keep him waiting because those who defied him got punished. Milton gingerly felt his eye. 

One of the CDC virologists up from Atlanta – Graceson - stormed into the lab. Looked at the sociologist with undisguised contempt, noting his black eye dispassionately. Their boss was obviously getting impatient for Penny but you couldn't rush science. Milton, the idiot - actually thought of himself as scientist but they used him like a mere gopher and they looked down on the bumbling fool who had no real scientific knowledge or training.

'You written the report yet? He's waiting for it. Ordered the supplies I told you to?' Graceson barked at Milton without so much as a 'Mornin'.

'N...n..not yet.' Milton stammered. 'I mean...I've done the report but not...t...the ordering...'

'Idiot.' Graceson was annoyed because depending on the state of the roads, they might not get the equipment for a few days at least. Further delaying their work. And the results. 'I told you....' He was about to harangue the other when he was was interrupted when one of the guards – a guy called Ritz knocked on the door.

'Got another one for ya.' He said and dragged in the struggling and gagged prisoner who had his hands tied behind his back. Forced him to sit down on the wooden chair in the middle of the room and took the length of the rope and tied it round the chair. Then he stepped back outside after closing the door, awaiting orders. 

Graceson, sighed. Well, they would just have to make do with what they got. He turned to his assistant. 'Milton, go and order that list of supplies. Now.' He ordered and as the sociologist left the room, he turned to the captive.

The young man struggled – he had dark hair, fearful blue eyes and looked about 30. His face was all bruised up, his T-Shirt ripped and bloody. His arms littered with cigarette burn marks and shallow cuts. God knows what they did to him – the animals. He shook his head, tried to clear it. Didn't want to think about it but he couldn't shut out the rumours he'd unwilligly overheard. 

Graceson forced down the natural doctorly instincts (he'd trained as a medic first) – to care for and protect, to heal and do no harm. It didn't do good to ask names or get attached to test subjects. 

'Cos world had moved on. 

The man flinched as he reached towards him slowly with one hand. Only to loosen the gag so he could speak. And something about him reminded Graceson of his own son – same age, same colouring, probably dead by now. He'd been living in New York in Ground Zero and he didn't hold out much hope.

He fought down the sudden wave of grief rising in his chest. The worst was the not knowing. 

'What's your name, son?' He asked, despite himself. He'd never asked the prisoners questions like this before. 

The man looked at him dully with the eye that wasn't blackened and swollen shut. 

'Jamie.' And Graceson was surprised at the crisp accent. The man wasn't from around here – not even from the US. British? Australian?

The scientist jerked back suddenly as the prisoner grabbed his sleeve, glancing at the door through which Milton had disappeared. 'Save me, please don't let them kill me. Please.' He begged while Graceson turned away – he didn't know what to say. He pulled away, not looking at the prisoner. Luckily Milton came back then with Emerett – his old colleague from the CDC. 

'What are you doing?' Emerett asked coldly – he'd heard the tail end of the conversation. 'We're not supposed to talk to them.'

He turned to Milton, 'You got it?'.

Milton handed him the syringe of amber liquid. 'What's that?' Jamie craned round, panicking. Starting to struggle against his bonds.

'Nothing. Just a vitamin shot.' Graceson soothed while Emerett raised one eyebrow. 

But the prisoner was no fool. 'No...no...don't!' 

'Put him out first.' Emerett coldly ordered Milton who immediately went to a glass cupboard and filled another syringe. Even though he knew that it was a waste of a valuable drugs but sometimes it was just easier when they panicked and struggled. Which they always nearly did. Hopefully, they would get the results they wanted and could stop these inhumane experiments. 

Milton came back with it and injected the prisoner, who was yelling and thrashing around while the others held him down. He was a fighter but it would do him no good. 

When he was finally out, Graceson injected the other syringe into his other arm. Wiped the injection sites clean with a sterile cloth and covered them with plasters. Didn't know why he was bothering. 

'Put him with the others.' Emerett ordered Ritz. 'But in a separate pen.'

'Do you think it will work this time?' Milton asked anxiously. 

'I damn well hope so but it's hard to say without the proper equipment.'

'What about the ..um.. test subject from the ..um prison?' Milton pushed on since it seemed the virologist was in a mood to communicate. 

'We're still running tests on her. Looks like she'll be a suitable candidate but we need those supplies to know for sure.'

'Oh.' Milton kicked himself for failing to mask his disappointment.

Felt bad for her. His conscience smarting because the experiment subject was someone he knew vaguely - and Carol was a real nice lady and he never wanted anyone to suffer that – especially not her - because he didn't believe it could ever work. 

'Excuse me?' 

'Nothin'. But inside, Milton was smiling because he hadn't ordered the new equipment. Had just filled in the form to say he had but hadn't told the runners. 

And he wasn't going to either as long as he could get away with it. Buy Carol some time. 

He'd found a way to start fighting back at last. Things had gone on too long at Woodbury and they were getting worse. 

He knew that he was a bad man, a weak man who'd done bad things against his will. Too weak to refuse the sheer force of the Governor's personality.

He'd always been weak, always been a coward. 

But maybe now he could start doing some good, make things right. 

iii.

The Governor was getting bored, he was getting impatient for more results from the research and he was sick of playing nice with the hostage. Felt an itch that needed scratching – and he knew that he wouldn't get rid of it fully until he had that sweet redneck back in his clutches. 

Had been dreaming about all the fun times they were going to enjoy together. 

It had been three days and still no rescue attempt – what were Daryl and Rick thinking? Or maybe they just didn't care enough about the captive – it was mighty strange how the redneck hadn't chosen his girlfriend.  
But he knew the prison people – he knew their moral code – knew they wouldn't leave one of them behind. Especially not with him. 

But then the world had moved on. Game rules had changed along with it.

And where was Rick anyway? Maybe he was dead because Daryl had to take over to negotiate the release of the prisoners. Rick was obviously out of the picture. And the Governor felt a little chill of disappointment because he would have enjoyed one last showdown with the leader.

Maybe had some extracurricular fun with him too but it was the scarred redneck he wanted most.

He dreamt about the scars on Daryl's back – it was if he'd memorised them like a photo. They were burned into his memory and in his dreams – he ran his finger over the roughened and raised skin over and over again. Or he kissed them – tracing the lines and bumps with his tongue. He dreamt about making more of them. Daryl filled his dreams and fantasises with unfulfilled desire so that he woke up at night – heart pounding and covered in sweat. He woke up hard but with no release.

Funny – he'd classed himself straight before all this happened – never even looked at another man in that way before. Surprised at himself. Remembered how Daryl had trembled when he'd brought up his Daddy. Looking so deliciously vulnerable.

Never mind – he was the Governor – he was in charge here. He could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. Felt himself getting aroused again. Yes – he had an itch that needed scratching.

Besides - these people - these sheep – owed him. He'd organised them, made Woodbury safe. Given them jobs, security , food and the semblance of a normal life like from before. 

He'd just have to find another playmate until he got Daryl. But from where? Andrea was gone. 

No more prisoners – they were used in the experiments. He'd only ever taken playmates from prisoners or those people who failed the 'quarantine' – the suitability tests. People who wouldn't be able to contribute to Woodbury for various reasons. 

Human trash in other words. And Woodbury couldn't afford to keep and feed people who were a waste of space. Still, they served their purposes in the entertaining gladiator shows every Saturday night. 

Panem et circenses.

And they kept the guards and Mac's people happy. 

But he would have to look elsewhere. Try a different dish tonight to what he was unaccustomed to. 

He rang the bell on his desk. A heavy knocked and came in. One of Mac's people. 

'Take me to where the children are learning their lessons now. The older ones.'

The heavy – Randy – he thought his name was, smirked knowingly and the Governor felt a sudden pang of shame. Could he really do this? He'd wanted to keep this quiet – planned to take an unattached playmate – preferably a teenage orphan if he could get one. 

One who wouldn't be missed. 

Randy opened the door for him then courteously stood back to let the Governor go first.


	30. Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What dark secrets and fantasies will Daryl find in the depths of Rick's subconscious? And can he bring him back? AU – I hope that's OK.

Daryl made his way cautiously to the dark fortress. Still no sign of more guards or demons. And he knew instinctively that Rick was here.

So lonely.

He approached the studded door. Rolled his eyes. Should he knock? What the fuck should he do?

In the end, he decided not to. Just pushed it and it swung open.

Seemed like Rick was expecting him. He almost laughed out loud.

Inside, it looked like a medieval castle – complete with suits of armour and tapestries. Candles burning.

Ya got a shit imagination, brother. Me- I would have dreamed up something more original. Yeah – like a playboy mansion full of hot babes in bikinis in a swimming pool with champagne fountains. Or being a famous R'n'B singer. Daryl chuckled to himself.

Then they came at him – dead dogs growling and rounding the corner. They looked like they'd caught the Walker virus - something out of a shitty zombie movie from the old world that had passed away. With flesh rotting on their bones and he could clearly see the red muscle glistening in places under their mangy coats. And they stank like a shitty abbatoir. He wrinkled his nose but bad smells didn't bother him – when you're a tracker and hunter they were part of the job.

Interesting he mused – they hadn't heard of the disgusting virus being passed onto any other species other than the human race. Hoped that it hadn't already somewhere in the real world. But then everyone knew viruses can mutate.

Two of them pounced on him at once and he didn't have time to think any more – only react. Went into fighting-mode. He didn't have a weapon but he twisted and kicked one away and punched the other in the head with such force that its skull exploded. Blood and gore sprayed all over his face. Then he turned to the other which he'd winded and stamped on its head to neutralise it as it lay panting on the stone flags.

Is that all ya got, Rick? These the guardians of ya subconscious? He laughed mockingly.

Bring it on.

All of them.

He wiped the blood from his face as best as he could with the hem of his 't help it – had no choice. Couldn't exactly get no deluxe shower and clean clothes here, could he?

He crept cautiously along, rounding the corner that the two monsters had come from, swinging half his body round and checking out the red carpeted stairs.

Looked clear. But then he saw her. Making her way down the stairs. In an innocent-looking white prom dress with her dark hair streaming behind her. Looking like all of eighteen but impossible not to recognise.

Somewhere from the top of the stairs, a baby cried. He felt a twinge in his chest.

Lori.

Of fuckin' course she was here and not on the road. All of Rick's nearest and dearest were here.

Along with all his darkest secrets and fears that he'd locked away. Didn't want no-one to see.

She came down the stairs and without a word, beckoned Daryl to follow her back up them. All the time her hair streamed behind her.

Should he trust her or was it a trap?

He had no choice. He cringed slightly as the baby cried again. Maybe she would lead him to Rick.

He took her lead and followed her silently. They reached the top of the stairs. She turned round to face him.

'Where is he?' He asked her.

She didn't answer but pointed silently to a door along the corridor to the right.

'Ya comin'?'

She shook her head and walked away gracefully, her dress streaming behind her although there was no wind or draught. He walked to the door she'd indicated with quick, purposeful strides and opened it wide, without knocking. Thought he'd take whatever was in there by surprise – give himself the edge.

'Rick?'

Then he saw him. Sitting on golden throne-like chair. He stared at Daryl in shock.

So he thinks he's the King. How Rick.

'You're not one of them – what are ya doin' here?'

'Rick, it's me. Daryl. I walked here. Didn't know it would work. What ya doin', bro? We need ya. Carol's the Governor's hostage.'

'What?' Rick sat up straighter. 'Is she OK?'

'Dunno. He gave his word he wouldn't harm her but that don't mean anythin'. And we're wastin' time here.'

The baby cried again – somewhere in another room nearby. Daryl instinctively started towards the sound. Sounded hungry.

'Is that Judith?'

Rick bowed his head. 'Yeah – not everyone here is dead yet.'

'Where is she?' Daryl demanded urgently.

'Somewhere safe.'

'Rick...Aren't ya goin' to get her? She's hungry .' He looked in the direction the cry had come from. Damn! He was already forgetting that none of this wasn't real.

The ex-cop suddenly turned on him – rage blazing in his eyes that Daryl had never seen before and he instinctively took a step back.

'She ain't mine. She's Shane's. Why the hell should I look after it?' He snarled the last word and Daryl was shocked because Rick sounded like he did sometimes. Or Merle. Or their father.

'Rick...'

'Every time I look at her I see him. Him and Lori and then I see myself killing him.'

Rick waited for the impact of his revelation – for Daryl to be shocked but he was disappointed.

'I know ya did. I know ya killed him. Ya had to otherwise he would have killed ya. Ya had no choice.' Daryl remembered how he'd burnt his unconscious father alive. He understood.

Rick looked at him in surprise, the anger gone from his eyes.

'How did …..?'

Rick...Does it matter who's she is? She's alive. She's ya littl' girl.'

'She killed Lori.' Rick replied coldly. Daryl trembled then because he remembered his father screaming at him, accusing him of killing his mother while he whipped his back bloody.

'Nah she didn't. Lori gave her life for her. She loved her.'

'And ya can love her.' Daryl added, softly. 'We all love her so ya can too.'

Rick buried his face in his hands. 'That's just it- I don't know if I can. What if I never do? Feel the same way like I do towards Carl?'

'Ya will because she's Lori's.' Rick looked up then, hope starting to grow in his eyes. 'Ya think...?'

Just then they were interrupted by the boy who strode in behind Randal with that cowboy's hat of his, gun trained on the prisoner who had his hands tied behind his back. Two guards (Daryl didn't recognise them, must be part of Rick's subconscious) escorted the prisoner – one on each arm. Practically supporting him 'cos looked like boy could hardly walk. Had been brutally tortured in fact – covered in bruises and bloody cuts. The scab on his leg was bleeding.

Rick's son's eyes were dead and glassy – didn't – couldn't reflect nothing. There was nothing sweet or childlike about him any more.

'Dad, I got him like ya said. Ya wanna us to play?'

The boy's words chilled him but Daryl looked at the limping prisoner who bore all the marks and bruises from their 'little chat together' and felt nothing for him despite his youth. Only merciless contempt because Daryl had got all the things he'd done out of him. What he and his people wanted to do to the Dixon's young girlfriend and her sister. And Daryl had punished him brutally for it.

'Cos boy had got in with the wrong people and turned bad.

His choice. Everyone has a choice. And Daryl had not said anything against the decision to execute the little punk. Had ruthlessly pushed the sobbing boy down onto his knees for Rick to shoot him in the head.

Because it would have been a quick and painless death – more merciful than Randal and his friends would have given Maggie and Beth. But then Carl had come to watch and Rick couldn't go through with it while his son was watching.

Rick nodded and Carl ordered the guards to tie the prisoner to the chair. Randal started sobbing, his eyes terrified.

'No...please...please. I'll do anythin'.'

Carl smirked callously – like an adult who'd seen too much of the world, who tortured people every day for a living and took out his hunting knife. 'Now...what about here?' And pressed the knife into Randal's scab – just like Daryl had done.

And just like before with Daryl, Randal jerked his leg in painful reflex and screamed.

Daryl was shocked – not about the torture but the fact that Rick was going to allow Carl to do it? Even though he'd personally like to torture the little bastard to death all over again. Wanted to right now actually.

'Rick...' He said warningly.

The leader put up a restraining hand. Looked intently at his son. At the pain etched all over the prisoner's face. Was enjoying the little scene.

Carl withdrew the knife, seemed to have changed his mind and the captive breathed a sigh of relief.

But then he turned back excitedly to his father. 'What about an eye, Dad?'

Randal started struggling against his bonds, Started sobbing in terror.

Rick smiled like his boy had just asked to go with him to a baseball match at the weekend.

The baby cried again and father and son both looked up at the same time. But then ignored it.

'Sure, son.' He answered with love and pride in his voice. What Daryl would have given for his father to speak to him like that. Just once.

Only the circumstances that were fucked up here.

And Carl turned back to the prisoner and started to slowly, teasingly move the knife closer to Randal's right eye while he backed away as far as he could.

He couldn't stand no more of this. He grabbed Carl from behind and dragged him away from the panicking prisoner. At the same time he shook the boy's wrist until the boy cried dropped the knife.

Carl struggled in Daryl's arms until he let him go. But not before Daryl took the knife and put it in his own pocket while he yelled in protest and disappointment.

At least now he had a weapon.

'Rick, ya can't let 'im do this.' But has he looked – Rick seemed to flicker – become the Governor – then back to Rick again. Carl watched his father in wide-eyed shock and forgot about torturing Randal. Now he looked like the child he was.

'I'm just like him.' Rick whispered. Turned back into the Governor. 'What makes us different from them?' Flicked back to Rick again.

'I'm just gonna get everyone I care about killed. I better stay here.' He said finally.

This made Daryl's blood boil as he advanced on the ex-Sheriff and grabbed him by the his checkered shirt in two hands. Shaking him like a rag-doll in his rage. Especially as Daryl had had the same thoughts himself but he hadn't allowed himself the luxury of a break from reality. Had to negotiate the exchange of prisoners by himself. Had to choose.

'Yeah, ya fuckin' coward, why don't ya just give up on all of us – ya selfish asshole – forget about ya son and your baby! At least ya got family left! What would Lori say? She gave her life for Judith! And Carol's probably being tortured right now as we speak! Ya stupid dumb fuck. Ya don't care about anyone but yourself.' He yelled into Rick's face.

The irony wasn't lost on him that he'd said some of the same things to Merle more than once. Now he was accusing his other brother of the same thing – of being selfish, not caring about anyone else but himself.

Rick recoiled, trying to escape that relentless icy glare, cringing back. Couldn't think of an answer to this typically vicious Dixon tirade.

'So, the goin' got a tough, ya jus' gonna give up? Ya think ya the only one who's lost people?' Daryl screamed into his face, glared furiously into his eyes. They were so intense that Rick couldn't meet them. 'Lost somethin' since this shit went down? Ya done feelin' sorry for ya worthless self?'

Rick finally met his eyes. Fire clashed with icy blue and Daryl saw that he was back.

Randal and Carl watched this exchange in shocked fascination.

'Ya comin' with me and we're getting' the fuck outta 'ere, now.' He grabbed Rick's arm and dragged him off his throne, ignoring them and the guards. They were jus' phantoms anyways, couldn't touch him. The leader didn't resist and suddenly Daryl felt like he was falling, the world was spinning around them and he landed with a thump.

His eyes hurt against the bright glare of the Infirmary lights.

Saw his hand was holding Rick's on the bed. What the fuck? He weren't no pansy fag.

But then Rick and him had been even closer at one time when they were holed up in the woods together. Just them two - Daryl smiled gently at the memory even though Merle hadn't given his approval.

Fuck Merle. He don't own me.

He felt a twitch in the other man's hand as Rick's eyes fluttered open.

'Daryl.' he smiled sleepily, happily, rolling his name round his mouth – savouring it. 'Where am I?'

Then he tried to move his hands and feet and panicked when he couldn't.

'Wait up.' Daryl told him as he undid the velcro restraints. 'I got 'em.' Herschel! Johnny!' He yelled.

Looked at the battery alarm clock on Rick's bedside table. He'd been walking for 2 hours in real time.

They'd probably gone. He was surprised that they hadn't interrupted them but then he had warned them it might take several hours and that they couldn't be disturbed. He didn't know what have happened if they had.

Didn't matter. Main thing was Rick was back and they could get on with making a plan to rescue

Carol.

And keep his promise to the Governor – to kill him.


	31. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's back – yay! But there are confessions to be made. Beth has one to make to Daryl that she fears will make him turn away from her and Rick has his own to make to Daryl and Herschel. His confession threatens to compromise his moral integrity.
> 
> Contains some romance (light foreplay) between Beth and Daryl – so be warned. I hope that it is realistic -I'm not very experienced at writing romance scenes.
> 
> Review please to let me know if it's worth keep on writing. I'd be very grateful.

i.

After he left Johnny and Herschel fussing around Rick, 'He needed to rest' they'd told him when he was twitchy impatient to plan an immediate rescue he made his way back to his cell. Didn't understand why – hadn't the leader been resting enough?

Maybe he would strike out on his own but he needed to plan. He didn't need no-one else.

Try to walk and find out where she was but he didn't know if it would work.

Even walking was touch and go – more so the older he got.

And he'd ignored their questions – even if tried to explain how he got Rick back, they wouldn't - couldn't understand.

'Cos Dixon business was their business, no one else's.

Everyone was just glad that Rick was back – came and congratulated him. Asked him how he'd done it. But he kept with his original story – that he'd got him back by some kind of hypnosis. He could tell they weren't convinced but he didn't care.

Hypnosis on a man in a coma? Even he didn't believe that. But then there were cases of comatose people being able to hear conversations going on around their bedside.

That night, there was a small celebration – with some fine whiskey they had been saving while Rick had his in bed. Despite Carol and it felt wrong to Daryl didn't feel like joining in. Shouldn't they be saving it for when they got her back safe and sound and had removed the threat in Woodbury?

He wasn't hungry anyway so instead went back to his cell for an early night. Ignored Beth's questioning, worried glance at his stern, pissed off expression. 'See ya later.' He whispered in her ear and gave her a quick hug around the waist. The others barely seemed to stare. Looked like they were getting used to the idea of them being together.

Easier than he'd expected.

Still, he noticed that she still stayed to party. Like they'd already forgotten about Carol.

How could they be happy when she was still in the clutches of the psycho? What were they doing anyway?

Wasting time, that's what they were doing.

He looked forward to seeing her later. Needed her, in fact. Merle was wrong – they couldn't do it alone no more.

And they didn't have to sneak around now that it was out in the open and even Herschel had more or less given his approval.

If he'd only put that bastard down in Woodbury and got Carol back and had his brother by his side, he believed that he could finally be happy.

Where was Merle anyway? Prowling around – stalking some pussy?

Good luck with that, bro. Daryl sniggered.

But he couldn't worry about his brother – he had something to do first.

Try and walk – try to find where Carol was being held. If she was OK. And he needed some privacy for that – it was good that the others were getting drunk.

He started to burn the herbs he'd picked the other day – just like his Mama had shown him once.

Funny – he'd started remembering more about her lately.

Started chanting in that old language. Didn't even know what the words meant any more but they just pushed past his lips and out of his mouth.

Did this for a about an hour before he felt himself leave. Made his way to Woodbury.

Looked round – she wasn't being held where they'd put him before.

He couldn't help shuddering at the memory of the Governor's and his men's hands on him.

Pushed the feeling away because it could have been worse – a whole lot of worse.

He'd got off lucky in fact.

Fuck 'em. He was gonna to kill them. All of them. And if they'd touched Carol – he was going to make them suffer first.

Carol – where are ya? Did they hurt ya? Are ya OK?

Then he found her – sleeping peacefully. Didn't look like they'd hurt her and he breathed in a sigh of relief. At least he'd be able to tell Rick that she had seemed relatively unharmed.

And she was in a part of the Governor's place that he hadn't expected. She had a nice room – furnished – more like a guest room than anything else but no doubt they kept her locked up. Nice bed with plumped up pillows – even a case full of books like Watership Down and 1984, complete witha kettle and a mug for making hot drinks.

She was reading one by her bed – I am Legend – he could see the title on the cover.

The Governor was keeping his promise?He thought hopefully, stupidly.

But then Daryl's eyes narrowed. No. He didn't believe that. Bastards like him would have another agenda. Sicko was planning something and it wouldn't be good for his group.

He shivered despite himself.

He drew back in shock when she seemed to wake up – to see him. Even got out of bed – allowing him to check her over fully. No sign of bruises or other injuries like he expected.

How did she see him? As far as he knew, she didn't have any Native American blood – came from Irish- German stock. Maybe his abilities were getting stronger – not fading like he thought- after all he'd walked into Rick's mind to bring him back. Hadn't even known that he could do it – had just been a gamble.

No doubt she would think it was a pleasant dream when she woke up. He hoped that it would give her hope nevertheless.

'I'm coming for ya, just wait for me. Hold on. We'll get ya out.' He reassured her then took her hands and put his lips to them. Even though he knew that he couldn't really touch her.

'Promise.' He said. What he really wanted to say was that he was sorry for practically ignoring her since he hooked up with Beth but he didn't. Forgot everything she'd done for him at the beginning.

And he would keep his promise.

'Cos Dixons always did.

ii.

He'd just left – was coming to himself again after feeling like there were two of him fighting for dominance.

Over his body. When he felt Beth get into bed beside him. Her hair brushed his face and he felt himself get hard despite his tiredness and anxiety for Carol.

Girl didn't have to do much to turn him on.

He turned round to kiss her – long and deep. She responded – she kissed him back and put her arms round him.

He nuzzled the side of her neck in the place he knew she liked and she arched her back. Just biting lightly into to her skin while she moaned in pleasure.

Seemed like he didn't have to do much to turn her on either.

And he needed the release – despite his exhaustion, he knew he was too wound up to sleep otherwise.

He pulled up her nightdress to nearly over her head. Started kissing her down her body – his lips and tongue making a trail down her breasts, lower to her stomach.

All time she arched her back, moaned. But before he got to between her legs - and she wanted him to - but she grabbed his hair in one hand and almost painfully twisted his head back up. 'Stop.' He grunted but immediately stopped what he was doing and drew back. Got off her - looked at her. But the confusion was clear on his face. 'Cos she'd never made him stop before. And she wanted to because he always made her come – especially when he used his tongue on her – all over her and Daryl could do that for what seemed like hours. He seemed to enjoy the foreplay as much as she did. Not like Jimmy with his clumsy fumbling around that failed to turn her on more times than not then he just got on top of her anyway.

And she thought that was what good sex was like.

Strange since she had guessed that he didn't have much experience with women despite his age. Seemed to know exactly what to do anyway.

'Why?' He whispered with concern. 'What's wrong, baby?'

She turned couldn't tell him. She modestly pulled down her nightdress.

'I want to...but I can't...I did something really bad.'

He laughed and stroked back a stray blond strand away from her face. Tucked it tenderly behind her ear. 'Now what could ya have done that was so bad?' But she looked down, couldn't meet his eyes.

'Ya going to hate me. But I didn't know...I didn't know...'

'I told Carol to stay away from us. Well – not in so many words...'

He got up suddenly then. Even in his shock – didn't forget to wrap the sheet around himself. To cover himself out of habit even though she'd already seen everything before.

'What the fuck?' His eyes narrowed in disbelief. Stared at her in shock.

'I knew she liked you. She warned me off you. But I got angry and I wasn't very...very kind to her.'

He backed away from the bed. From her. Showed her his back while he took this in. Of course he had known Carol liked him more than a friend. She'd flirted with him enough and he wasn't blind. Or stupid. But he'd chosen not to see.

Hadn't wanted to make things awkward between them or to hurt her so he'd pretended to be blind to her advances, laughed off her hints, her innuendoes.

It wasn't that he wasn't attracted but he'd needed her simple friendship too much at that time. Desperately needed the way she looked after him. Mothered him in fact – because no-one in his whole life had taken care of him like that. That's what he'd needed then.'Cos no-one had ever taken care of him in that way. Not even Merle. But then again, his older brother had started all that holding and stroking shit - is that when he started to heal? - when he'd found out what their father had done to him - not just whipped him with the belt or cut him with the knife. Had done – other – worse things. Merle had never done much of that touchy-feely stuff when they were kids.

'Cos that weren't the Dixon way.

Now he wondered if he had made the wrong choice. Chosen the wrong woman. Hadn't known Beth could be cruel.

'Maybe I chose the wrong woman.' He muttered as he turned back on her furiously. Couldn't stop himself from lashing out because he just wanted to make her hurt.

Like he was.

She gasped at his cruel words. She knew that he had a bad temper - they'd had fights before. And he'd never laid a hand on her but sometimes she wished he would just hit her. Because his words and his look of utter disdain and contempt stung her far more.

'Should have been ya.' He continued.

'Daryl - ya don't mean that...' Tears were springing into her eyes.

No he didn't. No-one deserved to be that sick psycho's prisoner - he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy but he wouldn't take his words back. Because he was furious with her when God knows what he was doing to Carol – what he planned to do to her – to all of them. Because Daryl knew that men like him, like his father, like Carol's husband, wouldn't let you go until they had completely destroyed you.

Or you destroyed them. One or the other.

'I might never see her again. How could ya? Jus' get outta here. Leave me alone, will ya?' His voice was cracking but rage was just underneath and for the first time she felt genuinely afraid of him and what he might do if she didn't obey. Knew that he could be dangerous so she started crying. 'I'm sorry. We'll get her back, I'll help ya.'

'Ya can't do nothin'. Go on, get outta here. Run back to ya Daddy.' He deliberately turned his back to her.

'Please...' She began to sob. And it took him every ounce of restraint not to go to her and put his arms around her. Comfort her. Because he knew that he'd ignored Carol too. He was too blame as well and he shared part of Beth's guilt. They'd been too wrapped up in each other. And she'd only done it because she'd wanted him.

'Get out. And don't ya ever speak to me again, ya hear?' He snarled, his voice getting louder in his anger.

'Stupid littl' bitch.' He muttered to himself as he heard her leave crying. 'Should have known.'

iii.

The next day, Rick summoned Daryl and Herschel for a private meeting at dawn. Just the three of them outside the perimeter fence and he knew that it was something serious.

Daryl looked at Rick carefully. 'Carol is OK.' He said deliberately. 'For the moment.' He stressed the last word meaningfully, ignoring Herschel's look of confusion.

'How do ya know that, son?' The older man asked evenly. And Daryl knew then that Beth hadn't gone running to him like he'd told her to last night. Breathed a sigh of relief – they didn't need others to know about their latest tiff. Last thing he needed was an overprotective father or elder sister on his back.

She was probably feeling guilty and ashamed.

Good. She should do because if they hurt or killed Carol, he would never forgive her.

Or himself.

He shrugged casually in answer to the vet's question. 'Just a feeling, is all.'

But Rick looked at him meaningfully and Daryl knew that he understood. That he'd gone walking and had found her.

'Let's hope ya right.' Herschel replied.

Rick got down to business. The Governor sent us a message last night. 'He's willing to give us back Carol in exchange for Michonne.'

Daryl glanced at him sharply. 'It seems kinda dishonest...'

'I know but I want to make the exchange.' Rick confessed.'She's not really one of us, is she?'

Daryl shrugged. 'I guess not...still I don't like it.'

'And neither do I.' Herschel added. 'We can't trust him and Michonne has fought to protect us and she's a good asset. A good fighter.'


	32. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth feels guilty so does Milton and even the Governor before he sinks even lower than he has already so please be warned. He is totally sick – sorry about this. And protective big bro Merle also rears his ugly head again – but this time with Beth – ah how so sweet – or not. 
> 
> I've also altered some events in the original TV show – for example, Michonne doesn't kill Penny when she blinds the Governor because I need her alive (well as a Walker) to serve my plot. I hope this is OK.
> 
> Review please to let me know if it is worth me continuing to write. I'd be very grateful. x

Review please to let me know if it is worth me continuing to write. I'd be very grateful. x

i.

The next day, Beth got up alone and she felt empty inside without the comfort of Daryl's arms around her or his head resting on her chest – one of his favourite sleeping positions.

She'd had a split second of bliss when she woke up, before she remembered their argument – how Daryl had scared her and made her leave. She'd been scared of Daryl? Worse – she'd heard him mutter that he'd made the wrong choice and called her 'stupid little bitch' under his breath which hurt. When he'd only ever been kind and considerate to her mostly except when they fought. Then he'd lash out viciously but only with his words. But they hadn't argued for a long while and she'd forgotten how tough and angry he could be.

Still was.

Now he knew that she'd driven Carol away – would he ever forgive her? Especially if they never got her back. What could she do to make it right? Why had she told him? Just the guilt was crushing her so that she felt she couldn't breathe.

Should have swallowed it and kept her mouth shut. After all, Carol might still be alive and they could rescue her.

She went out to start getting Judith's morning feed ready in the kitchen. Usually Daryl was up by this time and they would take turns to feed her. He liked to hold the baby early in the morning before he left for hunting or whatever he had planned that day. It was their daily ritual.

She craned her head – eagerly looking for him – wanting to see him but dreading it at the same time. After all, he'd ordered her never to speak to him again – had he really meant it? Worse - did he really wish it was her who was the Governor's prisoner instead? Did he hate her now so much that he would wish that on her?

She hoped he had just said it in the heat of the moment.

And was he now deliberately ignoring her?

Where was he? She felt like she wouldn't be able to carry on without him. Would just give up, like she wanted to before.

She sniffed as she went outside to fetch some water when she felt someone unseen barrel into her from behind. Strong arms wrap themselves round her neck and shoulders, holding her against a broad, masculine chest, hard as Daryl's, while a deep voice whispered in her ear.

'Now, now, don't scream. I ain't gonna hurt ya, Missie, jus' wanna talk 'bout Daryl is all.'

'Merle.' She hissed as she clawed at his arms to get away from him. Daryl's older brother had always given her the creeps – his eyes always lingering too long and too greedily all over her body. Knew that he had always known about her and Daryl.

'Get your hands off me.' She commanded him, shocked at her own boldness. And to her surprise, he obeyed her immediately, let her go and stepped back with a mock courtly bow to face her when she turned around. Maybe he wasn't so different from Daryl, after all.

'What do you want?' She asked him impatiently. 'I've got stuff to do.'

'Well – now. I see you've upset baby brother again.' How did he know so quickly?

Your precious baby brother's upset me actually. Do you know the things he said to me?

'What's it got to do with you?' She snapped rudely back.

He smirked at her feistiness because it was turning him on. How did Daryl control this fiery little minx? 'Seems ya ain't like the sweet little Daddy's girl ya used to be since ya hooked up with little brother. What he do to ya?'

'Nothin'. She looked at the ground. 'Jus' grew up, is all.' God, she hated how her accent got more pronounced whenever she spoke to either the Dixon brothers.

Now his face darkened and he did take a step threateningly towards her. Now, ya listen here, girl. Daryl's been through enough shit in his life – he doesn't need ya hurtin' him any more than he's been hurt already. Do ya hear?' His voice started to rise in anger. 'Whatever it is – ya sort it out. Ya make him happy again. 'Cos now he's walking around like his heart's been broken into little pieces. Because of ya.' He finished and she shivered as she felt a pang of guilt at his words.

Merle had seen him this morning? Had Daryl told him about their argument – but not what it was about - was that how he knew so quickly?

'OK – OK. I'll try.' She agreed just to get rid of him and get her to leave him alone.

'Yeah – make sure ya patch things up with him. I always thought he would get together with that Carol broad – similar ages and all but he chose you.' He licked his lips as he leered at her, taking in her whole body in his gaze moving up and down. But she felt no real fear. 'Nice piece of sweet, tender lamb rather than a piece of stringy old mutton. I don't blame him. Lucky littl' bastard.' He added enviously.

She deliberately ignored his attempts to intimidate her and turned her back on him. 'Bye, Merle.' she called as she went back to the kitchen. The asshole was a real creep – how could him and Daryl be related? But he obviously genuinely cared about his brother – she'd give him that.

She desperately wanted to make it up with Daryl but she didn't know how.

ii.

In Woodbury, Carol was trying to keep herself together by remembering the dream that was amazingly real. That Daryl had come to her and promised to rescue her. Had even kissed her hands. She knew that it was just a dream but it gave her hope even though she gave thanks every day that so far apart from the tests – which they'd stopped doing lately – she was being treated well.

It was like they were going out of their way to make her comfortable. But her skin still prickled as the familiar goosebumps appeared – she knew something wasn't right. And her instincts had been highly honed from living with her abusive husband. She recognised the subtle signs of danger – minute changes in mood threatening even when he seemed calm.

The first three days they'd done their tests but always they'd knocked her out first. And each time, she'd looked for marks or signs but had only found more needle marks and the injection site – presumably of the anesthetic. But it was the not knowing that was killing her. After all – she'd heard them say that she was as good as dead already.

Had they infected her with some virus? Or done other things? She just didn't know. And it was always the cold-eyed doctor – Emerett, she thought the others had called him who was in charge of the tests on her. She didn't like him one bit. The other – Graceson – he seemed more human.

Maybe she could work on him if she got him alone. Trouble was – she was never alone with him so she couldn't plead with him to answer her questions. Of what exactly they had done to her.

And why had they stopped after three days? She had no way of knowing if this change was good or portended something more ominous.

Like she was no longer useful, for example. Dispensable.

But they kept bringing her meals on the tray and emptying her bucket.

Milton sneaked into her room on his own that evening. Even so, he kept nervously glancing back at the door. The fading bruise on his eye didn't escape her either.

He put his finger to his lips, warning her to be quiet.

She sat up straight in bed. 'Milton.' She whispered. 'Thank God. Do you know what they are doing to me?'

'I've delayed them as far as I can. The two doctors are virologists down from Atlanta CDC and they are trying to find a cure or at least a vaccine against the Biter virus. To stop people who've been bitten from turning or turning when they die. But Philip believes that they may be able to find a cure for all of us because we are all infected. For Penny, his daughter who's a walker, mainly. But they need living subjects to test it. And so far, they've failed.'

She shivered. But almost laughed at the same time. How could you cure death? The Governor was totally deluded thinking that they would be able to bring this Penny back to how she was when she was alive. But a cure for the living may be possible, true.

Milton saw her reaction and decided then that he wouldn't scare her more by telling the particularly unpleasant side-effects of this 'cure'. Or how many prisoners or outcasts from Woodbury had already died in these failed experiments.

'Apparently there's one special blood type with the correct antibodies and receptors – it's all a little bit beyond my understanding – very hard to find but they think you have it.' He told her.

'Me? Why? How?'

'But I've managed to delay things – they haven't got the specialised equipment to make sure fully that you are the perfect candidate.'

'So do you know what they've been doing to me?'

'Don't worry – they only took blood and other samples.

She still shivered. Still felt violated but she didn't press him further. What kind of 'other samples'? She hadn't found any suspicious wounds or injuries on her body though.

Milton glanced at her in concern and guilt. 'I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let him go so far but by the time we realised he'd already moved in the other group – who are vicious thugs by the way – as his personal guards to keep everyone under his control. And anyone who tries to stand up to him is taken to the Screamer pits or used in the Saturday night shows. Or used in these pointless experiments. I don't even think the CDC virologists believe that they can find a vaccine for the Biter virus.'

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. 'I think I have a plan to save both our groups if you can just delay things until I can get rescued.' She told him.

He squeezed her hand back gently. 'I'll do my best.' The whole time he was worrying that they'd bugged her room with hidden cameras and microphones but then he wondered to himself – Why bother?

Still they'd whispered into each other's ears – the intimacy had been surprisingly unawkward.

'I have to go – if they ask – I'll say that I was just checking on you that you didn't have a fever because you said that you were feeling hot, OK?' And he felt her forehead.

She nodded as he finally released her hand. 'And Milton? Thanks.' She whispered before he left.

She was able to sleep better that night – she finally knew what the tests were for and according to Milton – that's all they'd been.

From the security camera in his office, the Governor watched this exchange suspiciously. But he could only see – not hear what they were saying – presumably they were talking too quietly for the microphone to pick up their voices. But he saw them whispering in each other's ears.

But from an angle that he doubted that even his sound experts would be able to read their lips. Damn!

But he didn't think they could really be up to anything – Milton was as loyal as they come and the mousy, quaking woman could never be a real threat to Woodbury or to him. Even so he would punish the technician who'd bugged the room tomorrow.

He felt his excitement and anticipation rise at this thought.

He'd sent the message to Rick by neutral messenger because he knew that Michonne was with them.

Offered a truce and Carol in exchange for Michonne. He was still waiting for an answer.

He wanted her after she attacked him and took his eye (fortunately he'd managed to protect Penny from her onslaught) he wanted the black female warrior almost as much as he wanted that sweet, scarred-up redneck.

And Merle of course – he'd defied him as well by lying about killing Michonne – allowing her to come back and take his eye. He needed to be punished as well. Had betrayed him. He had tried to set up that brother against brother death match – had been looking forward to the results – hoping that Daryl won out. But then they'd escaped after their leader and the others came to rescue them.

Of course, he had no intention of giving up Carol – he just wanted to get them here. Apparently, she was the key to a possible cure or at least a vaccine or serum against the Biter virus for people bitten.

What were the chances of that? When they'd had so many failed experiments and dead test subjects. And now the woman Daryl hadn't chose was a possible ideal candidate.

He still believed that a cure may be possible to bring back the walking dead to life.

To how they were before.

Had to believe he would get his daughter back.

He made his way back to his bedroom. The constant stabbing pain in his eye that was only muffled by painkilling drugs made him seek distraction through playmates. And he found that he was having to sink lower to depths he would have never imagined before the Apocalpyse to get some relief. But it was like a drug – he needed ever more of it and a stronger dose to feel the same effects.

He had a nagging feeling that only the sweet, vulnerable redneck with his scars could satisfy him. Because he knew that Daryl would fight back viciously and it would be a challenge to finally break him. To have him for his own.

But when he had him – he'd have him forever.

Until he could get younger Dixon brother, he had to make do with what he could get.

His dead wife's face flashed in his mind and Penny's before she was turned. A brief moment of guilt when he was tempted to stop at the line – not cross it.

But then he pushed the faces of his family away as he turned to the terrified teenager placed in his bed.

'Now...now...' He soothed. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'

Same words he'd used on Daryl.


	33. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change and people change along with them. Like Rick and Milton doing things unexpected because they're desperate.  
> Also includes the last time when the Dixon brothers are together (that doesn't mean they won't ever be reunited in later chapters because I love writing them together. )

i.

'Ya gonna really do it?' Daryl looked at him questionly. 'Do ya believe 'im? After everythin' he did?'  
Because he'd rather go and rescue Carol directly and put the Governor down himself. Keep his promise to the bastard.  
That was the Dixon way. Not these pussy half-measures or negotiations. Besides, he didn't trust the crazy bastard. Who was as slippery as an eel.  
Rick looked at him, then Herschel – weighing up the choices.  
He sighed, looked down at his gun which he was nervously playing with.  
'Michonne ain't one of us. My decision's made.' And Daryl seemed about to open his mouth in protest then nodded in that shy way of his. But he still didn't seem happy about the decision.  
'It's the only way... No one else knows.'  
'Ya gonna tell 'em?' Daryl asked.  
'Not until after. We have to do it today, it has to be quiet.'  
'Got a plan?'  
'Tell them we need to talk – wait for the others.'  
'Just ain't honest, man.' Daryl argued, shaking his head.  
'No, no it isn't.' Herschel backed him.  
'We do this, we avoid a fight. No one else dies.'  
'Got it.' Daryl nodded reluctantly.  
Herschel sighed. 'Who's gonna make the trade?'  
'We need someone else.' Rick answered him. I'll go and talk to Merle.'  
'I'll come with you.' Daryl was eager to see him. See how this was going to play out.  
Rick held out a restraining hand. 'No. You stay there.'  
Rick made his way slowly up to the second floor cells. Wasn't surprised to find the elder Dixon brother slashing old mattresses.  
Looking for drugs, no doubt.  
Rick stared at him in repugnance until the Dixon noticed he was there and looked up. Then he made his expression deliberately blank. Unreadable.  
Ice slate grey clashing with icy blue eyes.  
Yes – Merle could do the job and if he didn't come back, an added bonus. Although Rick would feel bad for Daryl but he had them now. A real family who loved him.

Who would take care of him. 

Who would never hurt him.

Merle stopped what he was doing and looked up, bouncing back on his heels. Forgot how badly he needed something to take the edge off.  
'Well, well. To what do I owe this honour? Officer Friendly 'imself.' He drawled sarcastically. But his eyes stayed hard – merciless – same look Daryl got in his eyes sometimes when he faced down an enemy. Looking into those eyes was like looking into two swirling whirlpools of icy water.  
Rick didn't bother with small talk. 'I got something I want ya to do.' Because he wanted to make this as short as possible. Because those piercing Dixon eyes seemed to bore right down to his soul – knew all his weaknesses and his fears.  
Knew about him and Daryl of course. That one drunken, stupid time.  
'So ...ya ...and my brother, ' Merle attacked the topic with phony, mocking delicacy which made it all the worse, like he knew what Rick was thinking. 'Ya been....gettin' closer again?'  
'I told ya that was all done with.' Rick snapped back. But despite himself, felt himself getting red.  
Merle guffawed at his discomfort then leered at him. 'Things ain't never done with Baby Daryl.'  
Rick ignored this.  
The Governor wants Michonne in exchange for Carol. And I want ya to take her.'  
Merle raised his eyebrows. Even he was surprised at Rick's ruthlessness.  
'And ya willing to do that? Ya know the things he will do to her?' His voice got confidentially lower. Remembering that he had handed Maggie over to the man even though he knew what was probably going to happen to her. Although he hadn't dwelled on it at the time because he'd been so furious at the loss of the his hand and the way they left him on that roof. Chained to it like an animal – no less than a fuckin animal.  
And he'd been anxious about Daryl of course. All he wanted then was his brother – didn't care what he had to do to be with him again.  
Besides, he didn't know her – didn't care. And if she was the little Chink's girlfriend – so much the better.  
'Maybe take an eye...or two. Finish what he started with Maggie...Oh yeah – he'll do that, for sure.' Merle licked his lips slowly, suggestively. 'Make her suffer a long, long time before he finally lets her die.'  
Rick drew in his breath sharply. 'And ya OK with that? A fine, upstanding man of the law like yaself?' Merle pressed him. 'Ain't told any of the others, huh?'  
'Just Herschel, Daryl and you.'  
'Hmm... the inner circle. I'm honoured.' Merle replied sarcastically.  
'She ain't really one of us. Besides, she's unpredictable- as likely to turn on us as to go on her own way.'  
Merle grinned humourlessly. 'Ya know, when we'd go out on runs – he'd always insist on using his hand or his knife – bash someone's skull in or slash their throat rather than waste bullets. But I always thought that was jus' an excuse.'  
Rick didn't say anything. Realised that on some level, Merle was trying to dissuade him from the path he had chosen. Maybe he was more decent, more like Daryl, than any of them gave him credit for.  
Didn't matter. He'd made his decision. Sacrifice one for the good of the whole group.  
Didn't even ask Merle if he was going to do it.  
'He wants her tomorrow by noon.' He commanded him.  
'Ya gonna need something stronger than rope – nothin' she can chew through. Got any wire?'  
And Rick knew then that Merle would do it as he strode away. Without looking back.  
He had preparations to make. 

ii.

Daryl came to see him. Hanging back – even from him in that shy, uncertain way of his. Nervously shuffling his feet.  
Like he still thought he was nothing. Even now. And Merle's heart clenched in his chest, full of useless rage and hatred towards their dead father.  
Because Baby Brother always looked so damn vulnerable. Boy had always been fragile. Of course, Bastard had known that when he went after Daryl. Had always known he was the sweet one.  
After Merle left him all alone with him.  
Merle looked up at him and was more chilled out now – had finally found a couple of blue pills – didn't know what they were but he guessed some mild sedatives and he had such a high tolerance, he'd probably have to take a whole bottle to knock him out.  
Anyways, he felt calmer now. That was the main thing – in order to do what he had to do.  
'Hey there, little brother.' Merle greeted him softly. Carefully.  
Daryl shrugged, looked down at the ground. Something was wrong. He knew about his argument with Beth but Merle didn't think it was that.  
His eyes narrowed and a protective growl crept into his voice. 'Is it Rick? Did he do somethin?'  
Daryl laughed nervously. 'Rick? Oh come on.' Rolled his eyes.  
'Well then. What is it?'  
'It's Michonne. Did he ask ya to do it?'  
'What? Take her to the Governor in exchange for Carol? Yeah, he did.'  
'What did ya say?'  
'I'm gonna do it.' Daryl raised his eye brows in surprise.  
'I don't like it. Don't seem fair, somehow.'  
'Then why don't ya do somethin about it then?' Merle challenged him. 'Rick says 'jump' and ya say 'how high?''' Merle conveniently ignored the fact that he was also obeying Rick's orders. Added to that – the Governor's second man after he'd saved him.  
Daryl didn't meet his eyes. Clutched his crossbow like he was drowning and it could save him.  
Then he shrugged. 'He's the leader, Rick. Whatever he says, goes.'  
Merle glanced at him sharply. 'Whatever he says goes? Ya used to call people like that sheep. What happened to you?'  
'Things changed. Ya can't do things without people any more, Merle.' And Daryl reached out tentatively to touch his brother's shoulder. 'I just want my brother back.'  
But Merle got all embarrassed and shook it off. 'Get out of here, man.' He told him but not unkindly. But Daryl left him with head down.  
Later, during the final showdown with the Governor, Merle would regret those last words and that he'd pulled away from his brother's touch. He hadn't known it would be the last time they would be together. How could he? When he later changed his mind and decided to do the right thing.

For Daryl – protect him. Kill the bastard.  
Save the group. Maybe earn their acceptance.  
So that he could be with Daryl – 'cos Baby Brother weren't ever gonna leave them now.

Had believed that he could best the Governor and that he and Daryl had more time, more chances to be together. 

But he could hope they would be again in some other, better life. Meet each other again in the green meadow where the white flowers with their golden faces danced in the warm breeze. The haven near their house where they'd gone to escape their Daddy.

In the place that belonged to them. Their place - where they felt safe. 

iii.

Graceson tried to examine the girl in front of him. He knew that she couldn't be more than 14 but he was having a hard time. She was hysterical and sobbing.

Such a pretty girl – porcelain white skin and dark – almost black hair. Small and slim. But with all the curves in the right places but he deliberately ignored those. She was too young for him to look at her in that way. But he could see how someone like the Governor had found her irresistable.  
Didn't mean he would ever condone it.  
But she was just a kid. An unattached orphan. 

'I said I'm a doctor and I promise I'm not going to hurt you.' He repeated calmly for the umpteenth time. But she didn't seem to hear him. 'If you'll just let me...' But she fought him and refused to let him touch her. And he sure as hell wasn't going to force her after what he suspected had happened with the Governor.  
'Nurse!' He called her. 'Give her a sedative. I can't do anything with her while she's like this.''  
The dark-haired nurse that had given Carol the creeps came over with the needle.  
'Now, now.' She tried to calm the patient. 'Just something to make you relax.'  
But Jessie screamed and struggled even more than she had with Graceson until they held her down and it was done.  
Then, there was only blissful silence. 

Graceson and Kristie examined her body. And even the tough former ER nurse who had seen most of everything was shocked. Her eyes widened. 'Oh my God.'' She sighed. 'He did this? To a teenage girl?  
The former doctor tried to cover his own shock. 'I'm afraid so. Not just prisoners – adult men and women.' They looked down on the sedated girl's body. Barely an inch of her back was not covered in cuts and bruises and what looked like whip marks – probably from his belt. Maybe even burn marks from a cigar or cigarette. '  
'Jesus.' The nurse exclaimed.' Do you think he...he...as well?''  
'I'm certain of it even though we haven't done the internal exam yet. He's getting more psychotic than ever.'  
'But underage kids now? Not just adult prisoners which were bad enough?'  
'I'm afraid so. Like he's looking for something. And when he can't get it – he sinks further and further, looking for it. '  
'Poor girl.' Kristie stroked her hair gently. 'Do you think she'll ever be OK?'  
'Maybe her body will eventually. But her mind..' Graceson shuddered and didn't dare to finish. He was thinking – This can't go on. I can't be a part of this. I've got to do something.  
But what?  
Just then, Milton burst in. Stopped when he saw the unconscious girl who Graceson had modestly covered with a blue sheet used in surgery.  
'Oh my God.' He mumbled, covering his mouth with his hand. 'Kids now?' He asked incredulously.  
'You don't want to know the things he did to her.' Graceson replied in disgust. 'They just dumped her here like a bag of garbage. Well, at least they made sure she got medical attention.'  
Milton looked at Kristie as if weighing her up. 'What do you think we should do?' He addressed her carefully.  
'Let's kill the sick bastard.' She replied, her eyes hard. Milton mused silently how people's attitudes changed when it came to kids – to children.  
Milton looked at her, then at Graceson. His steely eyes were also as determined, merciless as he nodded. Surprisingly, no one asked about Emerett because they knew where his loyalties lay. That he couldn't be fully trusted. 

He knew then they had formed a group. 

A group of resistance.

Later that day, Milton stood in the Governor's office. Tied to a chair, shirtless. Sweat dripping down his face and chest even though it wasn't exactly warm outside. Shallow, bleeding cuts down his chest from the Swiss penknife.  
Sweating and trembling because he was a coward – he was no fighter, no warrior.  
His head snapped back as his old friend – now his boss, slapped him hard.  
'Tell me, '' the Governor's voice was dangerously soft, 'What you and the prisoner were talking about in her room.'  
'N...nothin'. She just had a fever, was all.'  
'Liar!' the Governor screamed in his face. All facade of control lost as his spittle flew everywhere – including all over Milton's face. 'I'll just have to get it out of her if you won't tell me!'  
'No,,,no, please....' The other begged. 'Don't hurt Carol.'  
'Why then, were you holdng her hand? Tell me that!'  
'She...she had a fever...she was scared.  
'So you two getting' chummy now? Don't you know she belongs to the redneck?' The Governor shivered with some emotion when he mentioned Daryl. 'That he'll tear you limb from limb when he finds out you've been putting your hands all over his woman?' The Governor sneered.  
'Better than putting my hands all over underage teenage girls.' Milton retorted and he didn't know why he said it. But he was disgusted by the man he thought of as his old friend from college and he couldn't hold back his rage and his feelings any more. 'I know what you did.'  
'What!'  
'You heard, you sick fuck. And I hope Daryl fuckin' kills you.'  
The Governor physically recoiled despite himself. Had never heard the mild and gentle social scientist even swear before, let alone insult and challenge him.  
Instead, he laughed to cover up his discomfort. 'I don't know what you've heard but it must be some kind of sick joke. I ain't a paedophile or a pervert, for God's sake.' He countered reasonably.  
Milton looked up at him, clearly in the eye and for once with no fear. 'Cos lately whenever the Governor spoke to him, the man seemed to jump out of his skin. 'What would your daughter say if she could see you now (he meant if she wasn't one of the Undead)?'  
'She'd be scared of me.' He laughed like he didn't care but nevertheless, felt his heart skip a beat.  
Then like nothing had happened, he ordered his henchman to untie him. He a surprised Milton by taking his face in his hands. Looked deeply into his eyes. 'Now, you and I...' He drawled. 'We're old friends. We go back a long way. You know I could never do those things.' Like he was trying to hypnotise Milton before he suddenly broke off the eye-contact by flinging back his shirt in his face. 'Get dressed and get back to work on finding me a cure. Work on Carol. For Penny, do you hear?'  
Milton couldn't believe it. After all the things he'd said, he was just going to be let go like that? He'd half hoped that the Governor would kill him – one way or another he wanted out.  
After he'd left, the Woodbury leader called Ritz – his man he trusted the most. 'Watch him.' He ordered. 'Report back to me what he gets up to. Who he speaks to and what he does. Right?'  
The heavy smirked and nodded his head. 

'We'll keep alive for now – while he's useful.' The Governor added coldly.  
'Whatever ya say, boss.'

iv  
Milton staggered back to the lab, planning on patching himself up without anyone else seeing.  
Didn't need no-one to see his shame.  
But he got there and when he turned round he saw Kristie's horrified face, staring at the red blooming on the front of his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders. Thank God it wasn't Lucy, the blonde nurse. 'It's nothing.' He said with deliberate casualness that he didn't feel.  
'What did he do this time?' She asked with genuine concern in her eyes.  
'Oh – just cut me up a little – just need a few stitches.' He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing.  
'Come on, take it off. Let me patch you up.'  
He winced as she helped him with his shirt. Then she dabbed on some iodine on to the cuts while he drew in sharp breaths at the stings.  
'Does he know?' She asked while she thread the needle through his skin to do the stitches.  
'I said...I said some stuff. I just lost my temper. But then he acted like everything was normal -after he did this – he pointed at the cuts – then he let me go.'  
She stopped what she was doing to gasp.  
'Does he suspect?'  
'What's there to suspect? We don't even have a plan yet.'  
'Still we have to be careful.' He winced although she was trying to be gentle as she could.  
'He's getting more and more out of control.' She whispered.  
'I know.'  
'He needs to be stopped.'  
He nodded wearily. But how?


	34. Woodbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Governor drops his Mr Nice Guy act and finally shows his true colours with Carol. Can she stand up to him? Will he kill her before Daryl can rescue her? We also find out more about the creepy experiments in this chapter.

i  
Jamie shivered with fever in the holding pen they'd put him in. Chills ran up and down his body and the injection site of the unknown yellow liquid burned and oozed pus through the plaster. It itched and he scratched it irritably.  
Then he'd found the bite mark on his leg and it was burning – the fiery feeling travelling up further his body. He didn't remember being bitten before.  
What had they done to him?  
Injected into him?  
On both sides he could hear the growls of what these people called Biters (what they called zombies in England from the panicky, too strange to be true emails that he'd received from family and friends before the lines of communication fell for the last time. And at first he thought it was a pratical joke – sounded too much like a cheap horror movie to actually be true.  
Then with growing terror, he'd actually started to believe the stories when he saw what was happening outside. Had killed Biters – something told him to stab them in the head – kill the brain – before he'd lost his travelling companions to them. He alone had survived – had come knocking on Woodbury's door (he'd heard the rumours that there was a haven – a town that had miraculously been preserved somehow) where people could live like they used to before the Apocalpyse. Run by someone called The Governor although no one knew his real name.  
Thought they were going to take him in – instead he'd been tortured by those thugs and now they were using him like a guinea pig in some experiment. They didn't tell him what it was but he guessed it had something to do with the zombie virus.  
He was too delirious to even wonder why they were keeping him with the walking corpses.  
But he did wonder why the zombies weren't throwing themselves at his the walls of his pen – trying to get at him. Like they always did when they smelled living human flesh and blood.  
Over in the corner was a bucket but hadn't needed to use it. Hadn't touched the simple food and water they'd left for him either. Been feeling too nauseous.  
Then the cold-eyed doctor Emerett came in. Crouched down but when Jamie tried to look at him, he could see three identical men wavering in front of him.  
Just as I thought. The medical researcher thought to himself for what felt like the hundredth time. It hasn't worked – he didn't have the right blood. Subject has severe fever and his eyes were turning that weird, inhuman colour that they all had. Both were the unmistakable hallmarks of infection. They needed Carol but where was the specialised equipment that idiot said he ordered?  
The virologist shined a penlight into Jamie's eyes who groaned at the sharp, stabbing pains shooting through them.  
The prisoner grabbed his sleeve. 'What did...did you do to me?' He breathed heavily, every word was an effort to get out. 'What did you give me and was I bitten while I was out?'  
Emerett shook off his arm. 'I'm afraid I can't answer any of your questions yet. But believe me, we're doing everything we can to make you well again.'  
Jamie lost his temper then. Slipped into the local speech patterns that he'd picked up from his brief stay in Georgia on an exchange work program. 'Ya ain't doin' shit!' He yelled. 'Where's the fuckin' IV? The medicine? And why am I holed up with these dead fucks?'  
The other looked at him coldly, unmoved. 'If you don't calm down, I'm afraid we're going to have to knock you out again. I'll tell the nurse to bring you some medicine that will hopefully take down your fever and make you feel better.' With that, he started to take his leave. But the prisoner continued to yell at his back, didn't believe the bullshit about taking the raging fever down or any medicine that could make him feel better.  
'I'm infected aren't I? You infected me with the virus then got a Biter to bite me when you put me out, didn't you?'  
Emerett sighed but continued to move away, until he turned round but refused to look at the prisoner as he locked the pen behind him.  
'Why?' The man screamed, demanding answers but he made no attempt to escape – was probably too weak anyway.  
What the lab rat had said wasn't strictly true. (Emerett had to think of the research subjects in this way – forget they were actually people otherwise he couldn't stand to look at himself in the mirror). Besides, what was the death of a few if they could save the rest of the human race? They'd given him the vaccine then tested it by getting a Biter to bite him but it had failed.  
Emerett didn't know why the Governor insisted on keeping all the other prisoners – now turned Biters, thanks to the experiments. The quarantine proceedure was a test to see if they had the right blood and they knew they'd hit the jackpot with Carol. Pity was they were held up – waiting for the right equipment before they could continue to experiment on her.  
But he knew that the Governor used some Biters in the late night Saturday entertainment shows. Was he keeping them for that?  
He made his way back to the lab – double-locking the door that led to the Biter pens. Even so, he could hear their snarls and growls and he shivered in fear. Most times he managed to tune them out but not today for some reason.  
'Well?' The blonde nurse – Lucy - asked hopefully. Emerett shook his head.  
'We need Carol's blood to build a serum. For some reason, she seems to be naturally immune to the virus.'  
'Well, in every epidemic there are always people who are naturally immune to the disease. Their bodies already have the antibodies somehow or their physiology or their immune system is a little different in some way so that the virus can't take hold in them and make them sick. Even with HIV and AIDS some people were infected for decades and their viral load never went up even without antiretrovirals. They died of mundane things like a heart attack or of simple old age.' 

'Like Carol, for instance.' Graceson had just walked in. 'But we can't test her yet (he meant get a Biter to bite her) until we have the specialised tools. Besides, the Governor needs her alive for the moment as a hostage.' He was doing his best to delay things because Milton had confided in him his plan. Now they had become uneasy allies, along with Kristie who wanted to bring Lucy into the fold. But the two men had decided against that – they didn't fully trust her or Emerett. Besides, the more people that were in on the plot – the more chance there was or them being discovered or betrayed.  
Just them three – just the inner circle. But what the hell were they going to do?  
'Better go and restrain him before he turns.' Emerett ordered Lucy. ''No – better still, Graceson, you better do it. He might try to run or get violent.'  
Graceson shrugged like he didn't care. 'OK.'

ii.  
Jamie woke up suddenly – no idea where he was for a moment. He was restrained – not hard cuffs but those velcro ones they used for certain types of mental patients. His hands behind him and his feet bound. He struggled in panic until he realised it was useless.  
Why didn't they just kill him already?  
He was drenched in sweat – his fever hadn't broken but he was feeling marginally better. Had they kept their promise and really given him medicine? He didn't think so and he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping or passed out or whatever it was.  
Losing time scared him the most. Not knowing what was going to happen. Oh, he knew he was going to die for sure but how and when?

iii.

They came for her in the middle of the night when she was fast asleep, just as she'd predicted. Even though she'd been expecting this – that the Governor would eventually get bored of playing Mr Nice Guy, it was still a terrifying shock.  
'Strip her.' He ordered his men.  
'With pleasure.' One of them said – a weasley-faced one grabbed her roughly and started pulling off her nightdress and she knew better than to resist. So that she was standing in front of the three of them in her underwear, shivering. Trying to cover her meagre bust with both hands.  
'On the other hand, maybe not with so much pleasure.' The thin-faced bastard leered at her. 'Just skin and bones.' He looked her up and down. 'And old and ugly. Scarred up like the other one.' The other heavy – a heavy Hispanic man guffawed at this. 'Ya sure ya wanna fuck this one, Boss?' He turned to the Governor who put up his hand. 'Enough!' Then, 'Leave us now.'  
And they left, sniggering and laughing dirtily.  
When they were gone, the Governor turned to her. 'I'm not going to hurt you.' He reassured but she trembled. But then sat up straight, jutted her chin out defiantly. n.  
'Well, let me get dressed then.'  
' I meant I'm not going to hurt you much, anyway.' He sneered and backhanded her. Hard.  
She gasped but didn't cry. Wiped the blood from her nose. Was it broken? She didn't think so and she'd had plenty of experience of broken bones. Knew when she'd got one.  
'I hope you understand, I'm just getting a little bored and frustrated waiting for your boyfriend to show up and rescue you.' He backhanded her again – this time the other cheek. But she was ready and didn't make a sound and there was no blood this time.  
Then he lay back in his comfortable chair. 'You know, when we examined you after you arrived, the doctors found all these terrible old injuries on your X-ray. Multiple broken bones and fractures that didn't ever heal properly – were you too ashamed to go to hospital? Didn't want to answer the same old questions again or have them look at you with pity? And these scars – he leaned forward to trace the long one running just under her collar-bone while she cringed back as far as she could against the chair. Remembering how she got it - when Ed had come back late drunk from the bar and she'd thrown his dinner away in anger that one time early on in their marriage. Before she knew how he would punish her. The reason why Ed never let her wear very revealing or sleeveless tops. And she didn't want to either – didn't want anyone to see her secret shame. Let them know the things she'd allowed her husband to do to her. Because she was skinny and ugly. And stupid and worthless.  
'Was it your Daddy? 'Cos your boyfriend's scarred him up real good. I guess that's why you two are together – common pasts.'  
'No it ain't.' She spat in his face not bothering to correct him about her and Daryl. 'My Daddy never laid a finger on me. It was my dead husband.'  
The Governor smiled then and drew back his fist to punch her full in the face. 'Well, let's pretend I'm him again, shall we?'  
She knew that she would have a black eye – not like she hadn't had plenty of those before. And despite the pain and the tears in her eyes – it had been so long since she'd experienced physical violence that she'd almost forgotten the pain and the terror of it, she spat in his face.  
'Ya jus' a fuckin' pussy. Ya have nothin' on my ole man – ya hit like a prissy littl' girl.' She sneered at him and in her terror and rage, the South crept deeper and deeper into her voice. And it was true – Ed had hurt her far worse than this. And she would never have dared to stand up to him like she did the Governor.  
He drew back then – seemed to consider her words. Took a large gulp of whiskey. Funny- she hadn't noticed the half-empty decanter or the glass on his desk – she'd been too terrified – had focused on him – on his hard, gleaming eyes.  
So, the bastard needs to drink before he can hit a woman? And she laughed inside. Even Ed beat me sober occasionally – didn't always need to always take something or drink beforehand.  
He sighed regretfully. Took another gulp.  
'You know, in my other life, before all this happened, I never hit my wife. Never hurt a woman and still, nobody respected me. She cheated on me with my best friend who was also my boss. And still I did nothing – didn't confront them as they and everyone else laughed at me behind my back. Even at that New Year's party.' He finished his story.  
'Boo hoo.That's because you're a weak coward. And you still are.' She replied without understanding or sympathy. God, the bastard hits me then wants pity?I'm done thinking being hit is normal.  
He waved his hands around the room. 'Now look at all this – look at all I've got. Now they respect me.'  
'They don't respect you.' She retorted. 'They're terrified of you but they don't respect you. It's not the same thing.' This made her think about Daryl – how everyone seemed to suddenly want to talk to him, say 'Hi' to him, to be around him. That's when he'd forgotten about her.  
You had to build up respect – you didn't just get it given to you. At the beginning, most people had tarred him with the same brush as his brother – a crude, racist, dumb redneck.  
He had had to prove himself.  
'Well,' He said almost sadly. Playing at being reluctant. 'Let's get on with it, shall we?' Asking her as if she had a choice. He he drew back his fist again. She relaxed, made her body go limp. Knew from bitter experience that it hurt less this way.  
And did less damage.


	35. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol is tortured further by the Governor (more Carol POV and insight into her marriage with Ed) but there is hope when she receives unexpected help from Milton. What feelings are building between the two of them?  
> Merle has gone to exchange Michonne for Carol but will he be successful? Or is it just a trap laid by the Governor who we know wants his brother.  
> Beth decides to patch things up with Daryl but will he let her or will he just push her away again?

The Governor drew back his fist to punch her again but seemed to change his mind at the last minute. Lowered his arm instead.  
She wish she could wipe the blood from her mouth for the dozenth time and she sneered at him. 'Is that everythin' ya got?'  
'No.' He drew out the Swiss penknife slowly from his belt, opened it up, let her see how it gleamed in the lamplight. How sharp it was. 'Not everything. Let's try something different.'  
Her eyes widened in fear. She was scared of knives – remembered how Ed had carved her up in the dark so that she couldn't see what he was doing – could only feel the sharp pain. His favourite place had been the sensitive skin on her inner thighs which were littered with scars from the shallow cuts. And Ed would vary the depths of the cuts – she never knew how deep he was going to go. Sick bastard knew how to add to her terror.  
So you don't like knives. He thought triumphantly. The scar below your collarbone was from a knife, I knew it.  
She scoffed at him even thought he panic was rising like waves in her. 'Do what ya want. You can't touch me.' But she trembled as she said it and he didn't miss this.  
He openly admired the blade – turning if from side to side in front of her. 'Tell me, did your husband ever use a knife on you?'  
She looked down. 'Ain't none of ya damn business what he did.'  
'True.' He replied calmly and turned back to her. Then he lunged forward at her. She recoiled but braced herself for the inevitable pain when he stabbed her.  
Was he going to kill her? Part of her hoped he would. Make it quick at least.

But he didn't do that.

'Just tell me what you and Milton were talking about in your room and all this will stop.'  
She opened her mouth in surprise. How did he know about that? Did he overhear our conversation ?And worse, she was so afraid that she felt she was on the verge of telling him about the rebels even though they had no plan yet.  
Betray Milton and the others to save herself. Feeling like she was on a steep precipice and all it would take was one more push from him and she'd fall.  
Ya jus' a stupid, dumb bitch. That's why I treat ya like one. Ed snarled at her. Ain't no-one would put up with such a worthless, ugly whore like ya except me. Ya should be grateful I married ya 'cos no one else would. And don't ya forget it!  
She cringed back as Ed's fist swung towards her and the Governor smirked.  
Then she realised where she was – she hadn't heard Ed's voice in her head for a very long time.  
There'd only been blissful silence.  
Peace.  
'You were holding hands. Seems like someone's got a little crush on you.' The Governor laughed gently but his eyes were empty and hard as black ice.  
'I had a fever.' She decided to stick to their story. She would never actually betray Milton – or the other Woodbury rebels - she'd die first. No matter what the asshole did to her. Not when there was chance that they could all defeat him and save both groups. 'I was scared. He was just comforting me.'  
He scoffed. 'What a nice guy. You were scared? You ain't scared now.'  
'I had enough training with my husband (she wasn't going to say Ed's name).'  
'True. Maybe you don't care about yourself but what about Daryl?'  
She started to struggle then against her bonds when he mentioned her friend's name. 'Ya leave him alone!'  
'Do you know the things I'm going to do to that sweet, pretty redneck when he comes here to save you?' He whispered to her what he was longing to do to him. 'Do you know what I already did to him last time he was here?'  
Then he finally saw the terror in her eyes that he was craving but she shook her head. But it was for the younger Dixon, not for herself. Terror but no surprise. So she knew about the redneck's Daddy then. Of course she did, he was her boyfriend. He must have told her everything.  
'No, please don't. Don't hurt him.' She begged. Then she did remember how she had seen them in the woods – looked like they were fighting. But they hadn't known she was there – she'd stumbled on them by accident. And she'd turned round to leave – instinctively knowing that this was something private, intimate. Between family only. Something she wasn't allowed to see.  
But then Merle had suddenly grabbed his younger brother and she could see that Daryl wasn't angry with him, worse - he was crying. He was trembling.  
Daryl cry? She would never have believed it. Something really awful must have happened – something terrible. Difference was – now she thought she knew what. The sick fuck (she was surprised at the rage in her thoughts) in front of her was the reason and she hated him then when she hadn't hated him for what he was doing to her. And she swore that if she ever got out of this, she was going to make him suffer. For a long, long time.  
For Daryl.  
And she'd been surprised as she watched Merle put his arms tightly round his little brother and even gently stroke his hair with his one good hand. Whisper comfort into Daryl's ear until he finally stopped trembling. But she was too far away to hear what they were saying.  
Merle stroked Daryl's hair? She would never have believed it. Couldn't imagine that he'd ever been like that with him even when they were growing up.  
Maybe there was more to Merle than anyone knew. Maybe he wasn't just an obnoxious racist, sexist asshole after all.  
But he'd never scared her. She knew the difference between men like Ed and men like Merle despite their bluster. Seen the elder Dixon's look every time she had new bruises because unlike before, Ed stopped caring where he hit her – that people would know.  
Hadn't missed the way Merle looked at her husband and his lip would curl in contempt.  
Ed never noticed of course – or if he did, he ignored it. Coward that he was – he never wanted to get in a fight he knew he would lose.  
She'd left then – knew that Daryl would never forgive her – probably never speak to her again if he saw her. For seeing him in such a vulnerable state – his pride wouldn't have allowed it even it allowed him to break down in front of his big brother. And she'd never guessed that Merle genuinely loved Daryl or cared about him when all she'd ever seen him do was bully him or tease him.  
He never told me what happened but true – he did seem more shaken up than usual after she'd seen them in the forest that day after they'd escaped from the Governor. Had flinched more like he used to back at the beginning for about two weeks after. Pulled away from the group for a time.  
Of course he had.  
The Governor raised the knife, disturbing her thoughts. He'd paused to let his revelation sink in for maximum effect. 'Well, then, tell me what I want to know. Because I still don't believe you.'  
'I told you, I was sick.' She stubbornly stuck to their story. Thank God we decided on a version together. 'He came in to check my temperature. How many times do I have to tell you?'  
He sighed melodramatically and raised the knife. 'Now where do we start?' He said looking her up and down – trying to find the best place. 'Where did your husband usually cut you?' He asked with casual concern like a doctor asking a patient about their dietary habits.  
But then there was a knock on the door and Milton came in without waiting for a reply.  
The Governor lashed into him immediately. 'Can't you wait until I give you permission before you come in!' He roared. 'We were talking about something very important! Get out!'  
Milton stuttered and a look of horror passed over his face when he saw Carol's bruised and swollen face and body with the Governor looming over her with the knife.  
He resisted his first instinct which was to run away.  
But he couldn't do that to her. He had to get her out of there. Couldn't let the madman hurt her any more than he had already.  
He knew that he was a bad man, a weak man who'd done bad things against his will.  
He'd always been weak, always been a coward.  
But maybe now he could start doing some good, make things right.  
'Um...Philip, didn't you want a status update on the research?' He tried to distract him from the hostage.  
'Do I look like I want a status update now?' He roared. Then glancing at Carol, 'Don't ever call me by my name ever again! Especially in front of prisoners!'  
Milton looked down. 'I'm...I'm sorry. I just...just didn't think...'  
'No, you never do, do you? Idiot!'  
'Um...' Milton pointed at the battered woman. 'We need Carol back now.'  
'What!' We were just getting started!' The disappointment and irritation was clear on the Woodbury leader's face – ruddy from the ever increasing amounts of hard liquor he consumed daily.  
'I'm sorry but we need to run more tests. And...um...any physical a...ab....injury may cause her body stress and may affect negatively the results.' He meant the vaccine but couldn't mention it in front of the prisoner in front of the Governor. Milton was bluffing – he hoped that he wouldn't realise this or his lack of medical expertise.  
Carol glanced at him and still managed to give him a small, brave smile of gratitude for trying to save her even if it didn't work.  
The Governor sighed irritably. He would just have to find another playmate for tonight. He'd been counting on playing with Carol. Now that plan was out.  
Still there'd be plenty of time later when the vaccine was produced and the prisoner was reunited with her sweet redneck boyfriend in Woodbury.  
He gently unloosened the rope binding her hands behind her and helped her to stand up. She cringed away from his touch.  
Of course she did and he felt a momentary stab of shame and remorse but quickly pushed it to the back of his mind.  
Milton hurried to help her and take her by the arm. She rubbed her sore wrists – the Heavies had tied her hands unnecessarily tight.  
'Take her if you need her. But I'm not happy with this, Milton. Get me results and get me them soon!'  
'OK, I'll try to hurry things up.' Milton told him as he half-dragged, half-supported a shaky and bleeding Carol out of the interrogation cell. Inconspicuously wincing in pain from the stitches on the front of his torso. Didn't want to scare Carol more and he knew that they wouldn't heal for a few days yet if he managed not to burst the stitches.  
When they'd gone, the Governor made his way to his office and summoned Randy.  
'Find me another one – no something different this time.' He changed his mind like he was selecting from a food menu in a restaurant but one that was in his mind. 'Find me a boy – with dark hair and a slim build if possible.'  
Hopefully, one that would resemble a teenage Daryl. Because then, maybe he could pretend it was a him at that age. Felt himself harden at the thought because girls didn't arouse him the same way any more.  
'OK, boss.' Randy raised his eyebrows in surprise and sneered in disgust as he turned away but he did what he was told. Discreetly of course.  
He always did what he was told.  
Girls he could understand but boys? Didn't know that the Governor was also a dirty homo fag. Although he'd heard rumours about his obsession with one of the prison leaders – with the redneck Daryl.  
ii.

Back in the Infirmary, safely wrapped in a blanket, even if it was only a temporary reprieve, Carol broke down and sobbed when she'd never cried in the last few years with Ed. No matter what he'd done to her.  
Would never give the bastard the satisfaction. Not when he threatened Sophia. Besides, crying wouldn't have stopped him hurting her anyway – he probably would have only hurt her more. She knew that from bitter experience.  
But some of the tears – in fact most of them – were for Daryl.  
What the sick bastard did to him – what he was planning for him. After everything he'd already been through when he was just a boy.  
Milton put a hesitant, comforting arm around her after he'd finished making her comfortable. Wasn't much he could do for the bruises – they would have to heal on their own. Luckily, he'd been just in time to stop the asshole cutting her. So, he gave some painkillers and something to calm her down. To stop her shaking.  
'Sick fucking bastard.' He muttered furiously to himself more than to her and she turned and looked at him in shock. She'd never heard him swear before – never thought he was the type of man to ever swear.  
He noticed her staring at him and mumbled an apology.  
'Did he...did he...?' Milton reluctantly, delicately broached the topic. 'I mean ...you were in your underwear....' He blushed like an awkward teenager. 'I didn't look, by the way.'  
She patted his hand. 'No, I know you didn't. And no he didn't.' She shuddered at the thought while he breathed a deep sigh of relief. 'You're safe now, he can't hurt you here.' He reassured.  
She sniffed. 'Yes, safe for now but for how long?'  
'We've got to move quickly. I don't know how long we can wait for your friends. He's getting more and more out of control. Sicker and sicker.' He didn't tell her that yesterday the Governor had cut him.  
He kissed her hand – and it brought a smile to her face. Because Daryl had done this in her dream.  
Ed had done all that sweet, romantic stuff too but once they were married, it had mostly dried up in favour of the hurting.  
She had always thought Milton was an idiot – a weak man but now maybe she was starting to see him differently. After all, she knew that he had lied to that psychopath to save her.  
Was willing to risk his life to put up a resistance against the Governor.  
To protect her.  
He was also kind and gentle and she didn't ask for or need anything more. Not with a history like hers.  
Maybe in another life ...or if they got out of this alive...  
Daryl, where are you? He's going to hurt me – really hurt me and really hurt you too.  
iii.  
Beth didn't know what to do about Daryl. How to get him to forgive her? She wanted to do what Merle told her – not because she wanted to appease the older Dixon but for her and Daryl. And he'd been so angry with her when he'd ordered to leave him that she couldn't believe that he was really heartbroken like Merle said.  
What could she do?  
And she was also angry at the cruel things he'd said to her. She knew that he was just lashing out at her but it didn't make it right. Her Daddy never spoke to her mother like that.  
In fact, nobody had ever spoken to Beth like that. She'd been closeted and cosseted her whole life as sweet, little pretty Beth. The baby of the family. Reality – especially the Apocalypse- was a real slap in the face sometimes.  
She didn't have to tell him, after all. Just the guilt was weighing her down. She'd just wanted to be honest. And he hadn't appreciated it one bit.  
She saw him for the first time in two days. Looked like he'd been avoiding her. His back was slumped, he was dragging his feet and he was looking at the ground. Seeing him look so dejected was breaking her heart.  
Was it all because of her? She couldn't believe it.  
He hadn't looked like that for a very, very long time. Not since he'd virtually become one of the defacto leaders of their group.  
So, she went over to him, approached him slowly.  
'Daryl? Can we talk?'  
He opened his mouth and she could see the rage still in his eyes. But then he closed it sharply.  
'Yeah? What do ya want? I thought I told ya to stay the fuck away from me.' He snarled defensively at her.  
'Why? Ya want to tell me again how ya wished it was me who was in Woodbury and not Carol? How ya wish I was dead?' She bit back making him a take a step back and go red. Surprised at her.  
'No...I never said that. ' He stumbled over his words. 'I didn't mean...' And his face softened. At last. 'Was jus' angry was all. At myself, too, mainly.'  
'I know...I just feel so bad...about Carol. About how we left things between us.'  
'Well, maybe ya shouldn't have told me.'  
'I just wanted to be honest, have no secrets.'  
He sighed and shrugged. 'I know. To be honest, I ignored her too. Didn't have no time for her either when you ..and me....and them....' He didn't finish his sentence, just pointed at the other people milling around, doing their daily chores. But it didn't matter that he couldn't articulate his meaning, he'd never been the best with words but she understood what he meant.  
'Daryl, you said some really hurtful things to me.'  
He went red because he'd been regretting those words ever since. Just didn't know how to say it.  
'I didn't mean it, sweetheart. I wouldn't wish being in that sick fuck's clutches on my worst enemy.'  
She looked at him aslant. 'Apology accepted.' She replied sarcastically.  
'Ya knew what ya were getting into when ya decided to date a Dixon. We got filthy tempers and when we're hurt or angry, we lash out. But I am sorry.' He finally apologised. 'Dixons don't play nice.'  
She sighed. 'I guess I deserved it because I was a real bitch to Carol.' She admitted.'But I thought she was trying to break us up. But I'd do anything now to have her back and be able to make it up to her.'  
He nodded. 'Me too.'  
Then she brightened. 'Good thing there are other things about you that I admire. You're not a total asshole.' She teased him and he grinned back.  
'I'm not? Such as what?...Ya sure 'bout that?'  
Then she took a gamble and took his rough, scarred hand in hers, knowing he might still jerk it away. But he didn't, even tightened his hold on hers as he sighed with relief. Actually like the weight of the world had been released from his shoulders.  
'I missed you.' She told him wistfully. 'And I'm sorry about Carol. We'll make it up to her when we get her back, promise.'  
'Me too. And about that …' He couldn't tell her all the details, he'd been sworn to secrecy by Rick. 'Merle's going to Woodbury to try and work something out with the Governor.'  
She smiled.  
'If anyone can get her back, he can.' He said with pride. She smiled understandingly at his loyalty and confidence in his older brother, even if she didn't like Merle much.  
'Kiss?' She asked, tilting her mouth up to his. He laughed, motioning towards the others working, going about their work not very far away. 'What about them?'  
'Who cares?' She moved her lips very slowly to his, like the first time she'd kissed him. Knowing how skittish he could be. First time, she just bumped her mouth with his before they kissed properly, long and deep. He twined his hand gently in her long, blond hair. Then they heard the wolf whistles. 'Way to go, Daryl!' and 'Get a room!' and they laughed together because nobody seemed to be judging them like they'd feared.  
'I'm sure everything's going to be OK. ' She reassured him. 'There's been enough killing and the Governor don't want a fight – he just wants an easy life. And he won't hurt Carol.'  
But a cloud passed over his face – like he didn't quite buy into her youthful optimism.  
'Let hope so.' He grabbed her hand and they made their way back to the prison to give Judith her lunchtime feed because Daryl had decided to take a day off hunting for once. They had enough food for a while at least.  
When they got to her nursery, he let her go and immediately went to the crib and gently picked Judith up. The baby cooed and grabbed a fistful of his hair. 'Ouch!' He protested and tried to disentangle it with great difficulty because she refused to let go. 'Hi there, littl' asskicker, I ain't seen ya for a while. How ya doin? Been kickin' much Walker ass lately?' And Beth grinned while she got the bottle warmed up. 'Ya hungry, little girl?' He crooned as he swung her up high and then low between his legs.  
'Here, give her to me, you'll make her dizzy then she'll be sick.' Beth told him off – only half-jokingly as she took the baby from him.  
'I'm glad everything's OK between us.' She told him as she fed the baby.  
'Me too.' He replied. The baby burped as if in agreement and they laughed together.


	36. Anathema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well last episode (Season 4 Episode 6) drives me on to write because I just don't buy that he suddenly has a 'Jesus moment'. So here's the Governor at this most evil and depraved (like people like Jimmy Saville who have the power to do all the things they've always wanted to do because other people are scared of them and so cover up for them). But his actions disgust even the apathetic and complacent people of Woodbury who rise up against him. True, he has good points but the power and pain of his lost eye brings out his worst desires that he couldn't fulfil before the End of the World. He wants Daryl – the rough, hard-ass yet vulnerable redneck has this effect on lots of people in my story but he wants him the worst way. And the Governor's never forgotten what it was like to have no power or respect with people laughing at him behind his back. A place he never, ever wants to go back to. 
> 
> So, here goes. Please don' t read if it offends you. It's just that I like to go a little further than most people.

i. 

The Governor turned to the boy beside him. Tenderly stroked his cheek while he cringed away.  
But he couldn't get away – Randy had locked the door to from the outside – he knew the routine by now when he brought his boss playmates. The Governor only had to holler for them to open it.  
Of course he had a key but it was buried in a safe place. Where the boy would never find it.  
Knew he was trapped.  
Besides, there were trusted guards posted outside to stop him if he should escape by some miracle.  
'Daryl.' He whispered with longing.  
'That ain't my name, freak.'  
The Governor drew back his fist and punched him in the face. Hard as he could – at least he'd held back a little with Carol,  
The boy didn't make a sound. Didn't whine, didn't beg.  
God, he's perfect. Looks just like him and is tough like him too.  
'Tonight, you're Daryl.'  
'Who's Daryl?' The prisoner couldn't help his curiosity even in his fear. But he'd never show the sick bastard that he was afraid despite the rumours he'd heard about the leader and prisoners. Knew what was going to happen – that now the sick bastard had moved onto teenagers like him – girls at first.' His tone was defiant even as he spat out the tooth along with blood.  
His tormentor only smiled smugly as if at a private joke.  
'Why don't you just kill me?'  
'You want that, do you?' The Governor asked him in a pitying tone. 'If you want that, we can arrange it later.'  
Then he added knowingly, 'Nice try, son.'  
'Fuck you. I ain't ya son.'  
'No – you don't seem to be anybody's son. What happened to your family?' His voice dripping with fake concern and sympathy. Inviting confidence.  
Now the boy showed the emotion that he was craving. Because the Governor always found everyone's weak spots – guessed their histories, as the youth looked downcast at the bed. Grief that was still raw had risen to the surface.  
Yet he still snapped back rudely. 'None of ya fuckin' business.'  
The Governor slapped him round the head for that. Hard even as his erection grew at the youth's spirit. But it wasn't time for that now he thought as he forced himself to hold back with great difficulty.  
First, he had to break him in. Anyway, waiting always increased the anticipation and his pleasure. The boy was just how he imagined the redneck had been with his father at his age. 'You better show me some respect.' He told him as he started to loosen his belt from his jeans – as his eyes glazed over because both of them were fully clothed despite being topless. Now he saw the fear in the boy's eyes – he didn't know what was going to happen.  
He fought, he struggled even landing a weak punch on his assailant. But he just wasn't strong enough or big enough to take on a fully-grown man.  
He was just a fourteen year old boy – worse – he was small and skinny for his age.  
He'd been toughed up through the Apocalypse – had learnt to kill the zombies after his home was invaded and he'd lost his parents and his little brother and sister. Something had told him to go for the head.  
By some miracle he'd survived and found his way to Woodbury – following the written directions on the roads.  
Had expected to find a sanctuary – safety.  
Instead he had found a hell. And it wasn't the last time he'd regretted leaving the relative safety outside.

ii.

A few hours later at the break of dawn, Randy and another heavy by name of Mike – half-dragged, half-carried the bruised and bleeding boy to the Infirmary on the Governor's orders. Pushed him in at the door where Emerett was working the night shift (they'd been ordered to work around the clock). Despite himself, the scientist looked at the young prisoner in shock. The Governor had allowed him to put his pants back on at least.  
'Another one for the experiments?' He assumed. 'We don't usually use ones that young.'  
'No.' Randy shrugged then sneered with disdain. 'He wants you to keep this one. Patch him up because he wants him again tonight.' At this the boy started to struggle. 'No...no don't make me go back there. Not to him. ' He begged, his former bluster and defiance gone as he looked from one to another in abject terror. 'Please. I'll do anything.'  
'Shut up.' Mike shook him roughly and he quietened down at once. He turned back to address the scientist. 'He wants him if you get my drift...'  
'I do.' Emerett snapped – disgust etched onto his face. 'Unfortunately. Kids now – is it?' He shook his head in disbelief.  
'I know.' Randy agreed even though he didn't have a problem with the girls so much – a bitch between the legs was just the same no matter the age. But boys? That was just downright dirty and perverted. 

'Get out.' The virologist ordered them with unhidden contempt . He despised the low-lives who had come to live with them at the Governor's call to be his henchmen. Had ruined the genteel atmosphere at Woodbury with their constant air of dark menace. 'He wants me to fix him, you better leave.'  
They sniggered but left without protest.  
'Now.' He said softly as he turned to the prisoner – one of many he'd treated after the Governor's night time games or had experimented on. 'No one's going to hurt you here, son. I'm a scientist but I'm also trained as a medic.'  
The boy was still trembling as he looked down at the ground. But he mouthed Yeah, right silently.  
'Can you tell me your name, son?' Emerett was trying to be kind but it didn't come naturally to him.  
Do I give him my real name? They boy wondered to himself. The Governor didn't ask me for my name.  
Didn't care.  
'Ryan.' He lied to be on the safe side, giving the name of his younger brother. Emerett had asked because he knew that names were useful in building trust.  
'Well, Ryan. I'm going to treat you, make you better. Where are you hurt?'  
Tony shrugged like he didn't care. Like he can ever make me better. Make it like it never happened. Make my family not dead.  
Emerett tried again – hoping being blunt this time would work better. 'Where did he hurt you?' He asked quietly, calmly.  
Now the boy looked at him in anguish.  
'Everywhere.' He whispered and Emerett sighed when he realised the full horror of what Ryan was saying. This really has to stop. I can't – I won't be part of this any more. What he did to adults was bad enough but now teenagers – kids?  
'He called me Daryl and made me call him Daddy why he did it....While he whipped me with the belt...and...and...' He couldn't finish, couldn't tell the other man what else the Governor had done to him.  
He didn't need to.  
Emerett was sickened despite himself as the boy's tough and careless demeanour crumbled. As he started to sob and he awkwardly tried to comfort him. Because he wasn't a touchy-feely person by any means. He hissed when he saw the boy's back and put a salve on the whip marks and cigar burns. After he'd given him a sedative to calm him down. 'Sick bastard' he muttered under his breath and he met Kristie's eyes on the other side of the chair. 'I didn't sign up for this.'  
'No more.' He told her vehemently in a low whisper. 'No more cruel and pointless experiments that I don't believe can really work on people who came to us pleading sanctuary, no more patching up kids – for God's sake - that he's abused.'  
She stared at him in shock.  
'I want in in whatever you and Milton are planning.' They were whispering – mindful of prying ears.  
'How...how did you know..?'  
'You two should be more discreet. Your lucky his men are always high or drunk or just simply too dumb to realise what's going on.'

ii.

Jamie woke up – his vision blurry – everything seemed to be covered in a yellowish veil. He was no longer feverish but something was wrong. He could feel it and the skin on his face was itchy – he wanted to rip it off with his fingernails but his hands were still bound behind his back.  
He tried to scream for help – hoped it would be the nicer doctor with the warm eyes who would come running but only a growl came out of his throat. He tried to form words but none were coming.  
He started to panic then.  
He was lucky – Graceson came to his pen. Stared at him in shock as he heard the feral growls and snarls coming from the prisoner's throat. Saw the skin on his face hanging off in places, already rotting.  
What about the rest of him?  
But incredibly, horribly the man's eyes were alive and all too human – desperately trying to tell him something.  
Trying to beg him for help.  
Graceson ran to fetch Emerett.  
Emerett and Krystie came back – they'd put the boy to bed. He was resting from his ordeal with the Governor. All three were staring at the Biter-Man with expressions of shocked horror and pity.  
'What does this mean?' Graceson asked his colleague.  
'I'm not sure.'  
Krystie injected the test subject with a drug to make him sleep despite his struggles and they left him there in his pen. Along with the the groans and snarls of the other Biters to keep him company. Kept his hands tied between his back of course, just in case.  
Safely back in the lab they could talk without the prisoner overhearing them.  
'It's just horrible.' The nurse moaned. 'He's self-aware as he turns into a Walker. As his body deteriorates. No instant brain death apparently. How could that happen?'  
Emerett answered. 'I'm not sure but it looks like the vaccine partly worked. We're still waiting for the equipment so that we can process Carol's blood. She looks like the best candidate – if we let a Biter bite her – I believe that she wouldn't get infected. She appears to have natural immunity but we can't know for sure until we get that machine to analyse her blood.'  
Milton came in at the moment. Panicked when he heard the virologist's suggestion about letting a Biter bite Carol.  
'But we can't know for sure. Can we? And if she dies...' He asked trying to buy his friend more time.  
'No of course not.' Emerett snapped back at him. 'Where's the bloody equipment, Milton?'  
Milton looked uncomfortable, failed to meet the other man's eyes. 'You know I ordered it days ago....'  
'Don't lie to me.' Emerett whispered, pointing to the walls, putting his finger to his lips. 'You're not very good at it.' He added in a softer tone. While Graceson and Krystie looked at him in shock.  
'How...how did you know...?' Milton stammered. 'Are you going to tell him?' He trembled at the thought of how he would be punished – he'd already been cut for nothing and it was clear his former friend no longer trusted him. But for lying and betrayal? Maybe the Governor wouldn't even kill him which would be the best he could hope for.  
'No, he's not.' Krystie turned to Emerett. Also whispering – knowing that the Governor had his spies everywhere.  
'No.' The researcher whispered. 'You know what he's doing to kids now – I can't condone that. I did the experiments on prisoners because what's a few lives if it may save the rest of the human race?'  
Graceson got to the point. 'So what's our plan? What are we going to do?'  
'Someone needs to get out there and send a message to the prison group. To this Daryl the Governor is so obsessed with. We'll help them rescue Carol but we need her afterwards – she may be the last hope for a vaccine – with her consent, of course. The last hope for all of us. But I've done doing these pointless and cruel experiments on people who came to us for refuge.'  
'What do we do about him?' The nurse jerked her head back to the pens. 'We can't leave him like that. He's terrified and he's suffering.'  
'Let's just keep him sedated. If he suddenly dies – the Governor will get suspicious. He's already been sacrificed for science – he proves that maybe there is hope. Because I changed the formula of the vaccine slightly but he's doesn't already have the antibodies that Carol's blood appears to. That's why his body seems to be affected but his mind is still intact – his heart is still beating and his lungs breathing.' Emerett replied. 'A partial vaccine protection but of course, he is most likely to still turn eventually. Just slower than you or I would.'  
'His body is alive but not for long – his body is deteriorating. Besides, keeping him alive is just inhumane.' Graceson argued.  
'You didn't have a problem with the experiments until just recently.'  
'No – I've always felt guilty but I thought if we could save the rest of humanity...it was worth it.'  
'Don't bother me with your delayed pangs of conscience. We both experimented on unwilling prisoners. Too bad you just realised.' Emerett countered nastily.  
Krystie broke up the argument by changing the subject. Fighting amongst themselves was going to get them no-where. 'What about Lucy? Do we bring her into this? I know she doesn't approve of everything we're doing.'  
'Can she be trusted? I know she's been having time off because of stress lately. Seems like she can't handle the guilt any better than we can.' Emerett added bitterly.  
'When I tell her what he's been doing to kids – she had a teenage brother before he was turned. She'll understand.'  
'Well, bring her into the fold, so to speak.' Emerett looked at Graceson in agreement with his proposal.  
'Right. Is there someone we can trust – an enemy of the Governor who can get word to the prison?'  
Krystie nodded. I know someone who has a grudge against him – well, to be honest – plenty of people do now– have already turned against him.'  
'Right. We need to draw up a plan to help them when they come here.' Emerett concluded the meeting and they went to bed.


	37. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at roughly the same time as Chapter 8 containing echoes of Chapter 7. (S3 E15)
> 
> The prison group finally plan to make a stand against the Governor and rescue Carol. But has the Governor already killed her? Who will die and who will survive?
> 
> Will they succeed?

i

It was the day after Merle left to take Michonne to the Governor in exchange for Carol. A secret deal that probably most residents of Woodbury were unaware of.  
Daryl had just dozed off after lunch in his cell on his bunk with Beth, their arms around each other. Because since they were reconciled, they couldn't keep their hands off one another. But now they were sleeping innocently like babes although Dixons didn't do naps – they were for pussies - but he had to make up for lost sleep.  
He started twitching in his sleep and murmuring his brother's name. 'Merle...' He muttered again. Beth stirred but didn't fully come awake to consciousness, nevertheless she started to stroke his hair comfortingly. Seemed like even in sleep, they were attuned to each other's moods and feelings.

He woke up screaming for his brother, waking her up at the same time with her eyes wide open in shock and panic. A sense of dread and imminent loss weighing in his chest like a heavy rock. 

Remembering his brother's words in his dream, 'Good night, baby brother.' Before the shot rang out.  
'No!' He screamed again while Beth tried to console him. 

ii.

A few hours before. 

Michonne didn't flinch as Merle cut her loose. ''Get out.'' He ordered her coldly. He'd finally given in to her arguments. She didn't need to be told twice as she left him without a glance back. Feeling the safe weight of the her katana on her back, he'd considerately handed it back to her.  
But she did watch as he drove off.  
Maybe he wasn't so different from Daryl after all – yes, he had done bad things but didn't everyone deserve a second chance? But he'd refused her suggestion that they go back together. 

She understood that the is was something he needed to do alone.

For Daryl. For himself. Men like the Dixons had a strict code of honour – he was going to confront the Governor face to face. Wasn't going to hide behind Rick and the group.

She just wished he would be successful. She'd barely come out alive from her own fight with the Woodbury leader – but at least she had taken the bastard's eye. Remembered how cunning he was, his ruthless strength that seemed almost inhuman. She remembered how he kept his walker daughter locked up, keeping her alive in hope. She'd wanted to put the girl out of her misery but he'd got in the way.  
She remembered the feeling of cold disgust when he had shoved her face into the tank full of snapping Walker heads. And that she could have killed him if not for Andrea who had come in at that moment and looked around at the room full of Biter tanks in shock.  
Instead her friend had protected him - just because they were sleeping together. Couldn't she see him for the monster he was?

Why hadn't she seen the man for what he was? But then Andrea always believed in the best of people – would rather see their good sides than the secret selves they kept hidden.

She made her way back to the prison, killing wandering Walkers who crossed her path as she went. Ignoring the others. 

Then she saw Daryl also jogging towards her. Rick had changed his mind about Michonne and wanted her back. He wasn't going to negotiate after all. He frowned as he stopped just a few feet in front of her.  
'Where's my brother? Did ya kill him?' He glared at her and she knew that if he believed he had, he would murder her for it. Or at least try. So she kept her expression blank. He had typically got straight down to business without greeting her while aiming his crossbow at her heart. She drew out her katana in response, ready to defend herself if the hunter attacked.  
They stood at an uneasy standoff. Funny, Michonne liked Daryl, he seemed like a decent person despite his rough edges. Maybe they could even be friends when this was all over.  
If it was ever over. She thought tiredly.  
The black warrior shrugged. 'He let me go.' The younger Dixon eye-balled her some more before he convinced himself that she was telling the truth. He lowered his weapon first and the she followed suit. She sighed. 'Look, sorry I don't know where he went. I think he's going to go after the Governor.'  
'By himself? You let him go?' Daryl's voice started to rise in anxiety and accusation.  
'Didn't want me with him.' She countered.  
'I got to go find him!' He started to jog away then, without even saying goodbye in his haste and Michonne continued walking. Maybe she would be lucky and find a working vehicle on the way.

iii.

Daryl and Rick returned back to prison, lagging behind the others. Rick had his arm around his friend, supporting him until they came in sight of the walls and then the Dixon shrugged him off. Last thing he wanted the others to see after witnessing his pathetic breakdown at his brother's death. But then Rick was the only one he'd allowed to touch him, comfort him. Beth hadn't been there anyway – was back at the prison looking after the baby. He especially hadn't wanted her to see him like that. 

So weak. He was a pussy just like the bastard always said he was. He shuddered.

Rick noticed. 'Ya OK?'

'What's done, is done.' He replied stoically, eyes dry and hard now. Pushing aside his own guilt and regret that he hadn't gone with Merle or that he hadn't tried to fight Rick harder about betraying Michonne. 'No excuses now, let's go get the bastard. Rescue Carol. We ain't losin' anyone else.'  
'We gotta plan, have strategy...' Rick, always careful, replied noticing how Daryl's body hummed with restless energy.  
Daryl rounded on him, fury plain in his eyes and Rick noticed that there was a ruthlessness, an implacability that wasn't in them before Merle's death. 'Fuck plans and strategy! Ain't we waited long enough? Maybe if we'd attacked sooner instead of tryin' to negotiate with that sick fuck, my brother would still be alive! Ya sent him off on a suicide mission! It's all ya fault!' He shoved Rick away hard, clenching his fists at his sides. Wanting to punch him his face bloody but holding back. 'But then ya never did want him around, did ya? Jus' like everyone else.' He accused bitterly.  
Rick didn't deny this. 'I guess I deserved that one.' He conceded. 'But that's exactly what the Governor expected – he was waiting for us, setting a trap. Go ahead and hit me if it makes ya feel better.'  
Daryl snarled at him but turned away. 'Won't bring Merle back. Ain't nothin' can.'  
Rick laid a cautious hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry.' He said sincerely because he wasn't going to miss Merle but he was sorry for Daryl who had lost the only family he had left.  
But the other man shook it off furiously. 'Don't fuckin' touch me again. Ever.' And Rick knew that he was referring to the time in the cabin when they'd got close. But Daryl was back with Beth now. 

The remaining Dixon strode off, leaving Rick feeling guilt-stricken in his wake. Feeling like he'd lost a friend – no more than that – a brother. Not just his second-in-command. But there was nothing he could do and he would have welcomed Merle back now with wide open arms if it made Daryl whole and happy again. 

 

iv.

At the next day's council of war meeting, Daryl paced up and down in front of everyone. Had already brushed off their sympathies and platitudes – he only wanted action now.  
'We gotta move now and we gotta move fast because maybe he'll kill Carol when he realises Merle's not coming with Michonne.'  
Everyone nodded in agreement.  
Rick took the floor back again. 'Our 'friends' in Woodbury want the Governor gone. No, more than that – they want him dead. He's been doin' things – I won't say what here in front of the ladies (Daryl sniggered at Rick's old-fashioned courtesy) but suffice to say, he's made a lot of enemies.'  
'And I want him for myself. For Merle – so ya all leave him to me.' Daryl glared round.  
Everyone looked at him in surprise.  
'I know the Governor killed him.' He explained. 'Don't ask how.'  
'We're makin' our move today! As soon as it gets dark!' Rick announced while everyone gasped and looked warily at each other. But truth be told, most people who knew her were worried about Carol and they'd all had enough of sitting around and waiting.  
Rick distributed orders for the weapons and divided everyone into teams.

It was time to take a stand against Woodbury.

Some would fall. But some would live.


	38. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prison community prepares to infiltrate Woodbury with the help of insiders, rescue Carol and kill the Governor. Will they succeed or will some of them die? Another showdown between Daryl and the Governor. And what's he been doing to Carol, anyway?

i.

Daryl, Rick, Michonne and Glenn were approaching Woodbury under the cover of night. Behind them, the others were following – as backup because it wouldn't do good to draw attention to themselves by going there all together in a big group. According to their 'friends' there, they would be given free passage through the perimeter.

But Glenn was nervous, drew up his shotgun to his chest. 'Do we trust these people who say they're on our side?'

Daryl shrugged. 'Got no choice. Anyways, can't stand back no more and do nothin'. Waitin' for him to kill Carol and finally make his move and attack us. We ain't safe.'

'That's right.' The leader agreed. 'And if ya'll knew the things he's been getting up to, you wouldn't be surprised that his own people want him dead.' Rick made a low sound of disgust. 'Really low, sick stuff.'

'I knew what he was first time I met him. Tried to warn Andrea but she still fell for good looks and that Southern charm of his.' Michonne was bitter. 'And she's still there with him – what we gonna do about that?' Worried for her friend over there on the wrong side of the fence.

Rick shrugged. 'Her choice. She chose him over us, remember?'

'Yeah, we all have a choice. She's made hers.' Daryl drawled. 'Pity, I really liked her.'

As if to confirm Rick's words, they saw the signposts as the drew nearer to the town. They shone their torches on them to read what they said out of curiosity. Saw that the town name 'Woodbury' had been crossed out in red, replaced with crude drawings of skulls and bones instead. The message was clear. But if it wasn't there were also warnings of 'Turn back!', 'Enter at your own peril' and 'This place be cursed!' on the walls of the empty buildings lining the road to the town barricade.

Chilling most of all – 'There is a demon upon the throne of Woodbury.' With a graffiti of the Governor – a remarkable likeness of him – even his trademark sneer, complete with tail and horns, shootin people – even children.

Daryl hissed and drew a sharp intake of breath. Expressing everything they were all feeling. 'What the fuck...?' He muttered under his breath.

'Looks like Woodbury is fighting back. Good for us.' Rick sounded a little less tense. A little more hopeful as they made their way, dispatching a few Walkers who crossed their path but ignoring the others.

After all, they had a job to do – more important things to focus their energy on.

ii.

Randy, along with the other guard, sneered at Daryl before cuffing him and dragging him to the holding cell to wait for the Governor. The Dixon didn't resist. 'Hi again.' The heavy whispered in his ear, disgustingly licking his cheek. Never did get to play with ya. Pity that.'

Daryl cringed back but otherwise didn't react. 'He's waitin' for ya.' Mike whispered in his other ear as they hustled him down the corridor between them. 'He's fuckin' obsessed with ya but I can't see why.' He looked at the Dixon up and down contemptuously. 'Cos ya ain't nothin' special, jus' look like a dumb piece of white trash to me.'

'Fuck ya.' Daryl hissed back and Randy cuffed him in response and Daryl lunged at him, even though his hands were tied behind him. Managed to get free of Mike to kick him between the legs. Randy was cursing, in agony. 'Ya gonna pay for that later.' He gasped as he drew back his fist and split the Dixon's lip. Sucked him in the gut too. The prisoner doubled over and grunted but otherwise didn't make a sound. 'Yeah?' Daryl sneered defiantly as he straightened himself up again. 'That all ya got? Ya real badasses, fightin' a man with his hands tied behind his back.'

'Leave 'im with me, Mike. I wanna play with him a while. Punish him – if ya know what I mean.' He winked at the other man and grabbed his own crotch suggestively. Even waggled his tongue at him. 'Then ya can have ya turn, OK?' He turned round to leer at Daryl, groped him between the legs and forced his tongue into his mouth while the Dixon gagged and struggled.

Mike looked dubious. 'But.. he... he said no touchin' – to save him for him.'

Randy drew back from the kiss and winked at his friend. 'Hey – well if ya don't tell, I won't, hey? Jus' give us some privacy – I wanna enjoy this special piece of redneck ass all by myself.'

Daryl trembled and hissed at this.

Still, Mike looked uncertain because he'd heard how the Governor repaid disobedience.

'I...I don't know...'

'Hey, Mikey, how long we been friends?' Randy grinned at him conspiratorially. 'I won't say nothin', neither will this little bitch.' He sniggered at Daryl who looked away. 'Then ya can have ya turn.'

'Ya fuckin' touch me and I'll kill ya!' Daryl threatened while his captors laughed.

'With what, exactly?' Randy taunted him. 'Ya mouth? What ya gonna do with ya hands tied behind ya back?'

'Still managed to kick ya in the balls, didn't I?' The prisoner smirked defiantly.

'Yeah – and ya gonna pay for that once I recover, ya piece of trailer trash.' Randy grabbed Daryl's ass roughly with one hand and forced his hand down the crotch of the young redneck's trousers.

He grinned in triumph when he finally drew out a whimper from the prisoner who went white at his rough groping and smirked at the other man. 'See – jus' a pussy really. Soft as shit, ain't ya, boy?' To Mike, 'Ya gonna leave us alone now? Just for a little while?'

Mike hesitated, 'I'm not sure...if he finds out...'

'Stop bein' a fuckin' coward. Ya scared of him?'

That got him. Mike nodded but not before licking his lips and leering at the prisoner – he really was a fine piece of ass with his lean body and high cheekbones. 'OK – but as soon as ya done – let me have a go with him, OK?' Mike reached over and stroked the prisoner's cheek slowly while the pretty boy recoiled from his fingers. Taking no notice, he continued exploring the prisoner's face and tugged down the man's lower lip. 'Bet ya can suck cock really well, can't ya? Daddy taught ya good, didn't he?'

He laughed dirtily then at his own joke. 'Can't wait to try ya out.'

Daryl said nothing but the rage was clear on his face. Of course they knew about his family history from the last time he was here. Probably the whole of fuckin' Woodbury knew. Jus' his luck.'

'Sure. Don't stress.' Randy replied. 'I'll even break him in for ya, how about that?'

Daryl shuddered and growled at him.

'Jus' go with the flow, maybe you'll even enjoy it.' Randy grabbed his arm and forced him against the wall. 'If ya good to me, maybe I'll even get ya off.'

'Fuck ya. I ain't no pansy homo fag,and I don't fuck men.' Daryl snarled back, forgetting his drunken one-time only experiment with Rick.

Randy shrugged. 'Neither am I. But at least I'll be better to ya than him.' Daryl knew he was talking about his boss – that sadistic raping fuck.

Meanwhile, Mike felt himself becoming hard as he watched all of this and reluctantly turned away and forced himself to leave. Couldn't even stay outside the door and touch himself while he listened because he had jobs to do. But when he was finished with work, he was going to enjoy some up and close personal downtime with the prisoner and yes – , he admitted grudgingly to himself, maybe the risk of going against the Governor's orders added to his excitement.

iii.

Randy and Mikey dragged Daryl by the arm to the interrogation cell where Carol was waiting with the Governor.

His eyes widened in shock when he saw her battered face although hers lit up when she saw him. Nevertheless, he was relieved to see her alive. 'What did ya do to her?' He snarled at the Governor, forgetting all fear for himself. The Woodbury leader shrugged. 'Only what I had to.'

Daryl was sickened.'Ya sick bastard, I'm gonna kill ya for touchin' her. For my brother too.'

The Governor laughed. 'He was a traitor – he got what was coming to him. Did ya know he begged me to spare his life? Even offered to give up your people to save his own worthless hide.'

'Ya a fuckin' liar! Merle wouldn't do that!' Daryl struggled in his rage and even got free from Randy. Lunged at the Governor but he couldn't do anything with his hands tied behind his back. The henchman took a step forward but the Woodbury leader waved them back. 'Ya sick. Someone should put ya down.'

'And how ya gonna do that, may I ask?'

Daryl didn't answer so the Governor turned to Carol instead. Stroked her cheek tenderly while she cringed away. Daryl tensed at this. Worse -she was feeling exposed – only in her slip. Didn't want Daryl to see her scars from her husband or the bruises from her tormentor but apparently he didn't even notice. She saw Daryl's tattered clothes and his bruises and she dreaded to think what they'd already done to him.

The Governor turned to her then, fondled a strand of her hair while she drew back as far as she could. But she was tied to the chair, her hands behind her.

Daryl struggled in Randy's arms. 'Get ya filthy hands off her.' He snarled at him, just the effect the Governor was looking for.

'So ya love her, do ya?'

Daryl said nothing, knew that his captor would see this as a weakness and exploit it.

'Now, now.' Philip stroked his cheek gently while he flinched away. To Carol, 'Ya know, I've been dreaming of this moment so long. You, me and him together – just like a beautiful little family.'

'Get ya fuckin' hands off him.' She hissed at him – her protectiveness for Daryl surprising her. Like how she would have protected Sophia from Ed in the past by trying to distract him from her even if it meant she got hurt more.

He laughed gently then. 'So, you really do love him.'

She said nothing, knowing anything she said he would use against her.

'Do ya remember the treat I promised you, when he came for you?'

She feigned ignorance, didn't know what else to do. 'What treat? I don't remember.'

'I was going to let you watch.'

'Wh...What?'

'While I re-enact Daryl's childhood with his Daddy.'

The Dixon looked at him and snarled 'Fuck you.' at him. While he looked at Carol with shock because he saw then that she knew. Had known for a long time.

'You really are a sick fuck.' She screamed at him – surprised at her use of the bad words – she never swore. But she was standing up to him for Daryl when she would never have defied her husband like this.

Their tormentor laughed. 'So touching, so sweet. You really are two little love-birds.'

They kept silent at this.

The Governor tantalisingly undid his belt and pulled down his trousers.

'Ya fuckin touch him and I'll kill you.' Carol threatened him, surprised at her vehemence.

Daryl threw her a look, silently telling her to shut up, not to bring more pain upon herself. That he could take whatever the sick fuck dished out.

Their Governor pulled down his own boxers – right in front of her and she noted his flat stomach, his muscular torso. His already stiffening member. Maybe in another life...

What the hell am I thinking? She stopped herself from thinking these sick thoughts about the Governor.

Because suddenly he rushed at Daryl and forced the struggling Dixon to bend over the table. Even restrained, he managed to almost free himself so the Governor clicked his fingers to Randy to help hold him down. Then he impatiently tugged down the prisoner's trousers and his underwear.

She turned away – deliberately didn't look at Daryl's bruised and scarred body – he must be embarrassed at being naked yet he didn't seem to be be. She just didn't want to witness the humiliation and violation of her friend. But Daryl didn't seem to be concerned. Just let the bastard do whatever he wanted.

Did she imagine Daryl's careless smirk as the Governor got into position behind him? He didn't seem scared at all even though he was cringing back from the other man's sleazy touch and shudders were running up and down his body. But he always shied away from the touch of people he didn't know or trust.

Philip gently stroked back a stray strand of hair, tucked it behind Daryl's ear. 'Poor baby. What did Daddy do?' He crooned.

Started tracing the scars on his back with his forefinger. 'Did ya Daddy do this to ya? He crooned, voice oozing fake sympathy as he pressed himself against the Dixon's backside but thankfully, was still not penetrating him yet. Daryl swallowed hard, forced himself not to move away as he fought the waves of panic when he felt how big he was and already hard for him. It was going to hurt like fuck.

'So what if he did?' Daryl answered carelessly. He'd laid those particular demons to rest long ago.

'What else did he do? Tell me and I can make it all go away.'

Daryl didn't answer. Glanced at Carol – had never wanted to know about that part of his life. It was behind him anyway. His brother had helped him deal with it before he'd been ripped away from him. By the very man who was now groping him.

'Fuck you, ya sick fuck, get the fuck on with it.' He sneered.

Was she mistaken or did Daryl wink at her? Like he was telling her things would be all right in the end.

'Ya want it the hard way or the easy way?'

'Don't give a shit.' Daryl replied carelessly.

'Right then.' In front of her, the bastard started to slide his fingers into Daryl's backside, but he did smother them in lubricant first. The Dixon swallowed back a gasp of pain and tried to squirm away.'There, there.' Then he went in deeper until he found what he was looking for and Daryl couldn't stop the moan escaping his lips when his experienced fingers grazed the sweet spot there. Even found his body moving back and forth against the Governor's hand who smirked then triumphantly. And he could do nothing about it.  
'You like it, don't you? Ya want it. Ya always were a little slut, even when you were a boy, that's why ya Daddy did it to ya. He could tell, jus' like I could. Bet he even called ya his sweet little whore.'

'Fuck you! No, I wasn't!' Daryl yelled in rage even as he was gasping and panting in pleasure as the bastard continued to massage that secret, intimate place with his fingers. He just wanted to die - he couldn't stand it with Carol watching - even though she'd turned away - that was the worst. Randy kept his face forward - but Daryl knew he was focusing on a spot in right in front of him - a trick he'd learnt to do when he was very young to distract himself. And even if they killed the bastard and got out of here alive, she would always remember seeing him like this, it would always be between them - that's if they ever moved to the next level from being just friends.

Could they ever move on from this?

The bastard looked over to her to read her reaction and smirked. And she had turned away – couldn't watch any more - didn't want to see her friend's humiliation and violation. The mention of his family history with the sick bastard taunting him with it. But the Governor noticed and stopped what he was doing. Clicked his fingers at Mike who was hanging by the door. Didn't need to give him the order, the heavy knew what he wanted, had witnessed many scenes like this with prisoners. The Woodbury leader particularly liked relatives to watch while violated his captives. Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters were good pairings that added to his enjoyment. He'd usually violate one after the other. And get them to have sex with each other.

Mike went over to leer behind Carol and force her head back to watch even though she resisted. Held it there looking straight at Daryl and the Governor but she stubbornly closed her eyes.

The henchman looked over to his boss who nodded. He released her then slapped her hard round the face – first one cheek then the other, leaving red marks where his hand had been. Making her open her eyes in a hurry and her eyes sting with tears.

'Leave her alone! Ya got me, do the fuck ya want with me but just leave her out of it!' The prisoner yelled and struggled, his efforts to break free suddenly renewed. Unintentionally, he was grinding back against his rapist's hard dick who groaned in pleasure.

'You're so fuckin' hot, I can see why ya Daddy couldn't resist ya. I don't know if I can any longer.' He hissed into Daryl's ear, groaning and touching himself. 'What ya just did...' Aloud, to Carol he said, 'You watch otherwise I'll fuck him to death. You know I will and I won't be a gentleman. And you really wouldn't want to see me do that because I can, you know. I've done it loads of times to guests who don't behave.'

So, she was forced to keep her eyes open and watch as he moved on to stretching Daryl after smothering his fingers with more lube while the latter tried to swallow grunts of pain and despite himself, the tears welled up in his eyes.

'See how nice I'm being to you, preparing ya and all.' He whispered in his victim's ear. 'Didn't have to, ya know.'

''Don't know why with that tiny prick of yours. Hardly gonna feel it.'' Daryl retorted and laughed mockingly.

'Oh, you will, just wait for ya Daddy.'

'Ya sick fuck.'

Philip ignored him and grinned at his friend triumphantly as the tears ran down her face. Because despite everything he'd done to her, he'd failed to make her weep. But now she was. Nevertheless, she didn't make a sound as she vowed that she was never going to give the bastard that satisfaction. Even if she couldn't hold back the tears. The bastard was already panting with excitement about to enter him when Daryl chose his moment while his captor was distracted. Reached up with his bound hands behind his back, difficult with the Governor pressing himself so tightly against him and with a triumphant smirk, he pulled them apart until they broke. At the same time, as if they'd planned it, Randy drew his gun and shot the other guard across the room twice – once in the head and stomach before Mike could even react as he slumped bleeding to the floor.

The Governor suddenly stopped what he was doing. He'd been lost in the moment. 'What the hell...' he gasped in shock. 'Randy...what ya...' But he didn't get to finish as Daryl sniggered and took advantage of his paralysis and was already on top of him, both of them naked like in some kind of exotic wrestling match as as he chopped and punched him down. Philip had known he would be more than an equal in a fair fight – that's why having him restrained was such a turn on. So strong yet so vulnerable at the same time.

As if from far away, he could hear Carol screaming 'Stop him! Help him!' And then the hard pounding of footsteps – probably the Governor's calvary were arriving after hearing the shots. Then more gunfire – Randy had his hands full fighting them off - couldn't help him. Carol was no help either – Randy hadn't had time to untie her. Daryl almost regretted refusing the henchman's help because of his sense of personal pride as his vision dimmed and his chest felt like it was burning. He fought to stay conscious as he desperately scrabbled around for something to use against his assailant but couldn't find anything. Deliberately didn't look into the man's manic hate mixed with lust-filled and rage-filled eyes staring into his.

But no. He didn't regret refusing help – even if he died. Because it was his fight. His alone. That was the Dixon way. And at least he'd see his brother again in that place where he knew Merle was waiting for him. When he'd gone, it was like the other half of his heart had been ripped out of his chest and he still felt that emptiness that could never ever be filled up except by kin who had the same Dixon blood running through his veins..

He was suddenly filled with regret that he would never be able to make it up to Carol – maybe they would have been someone to each other – he dared to think – maybe even more than friends. He would never hold the little ass-kicker again. Would never see Rick, Glenn, Maggie or Michonne ever again. Would never have another chance to teach Carl how to shoot the crossbow or track prey.

Would never have a chance to speak to his other family – tell them he loved them. Because they were his family – different to Merle but that didn't mean he loved them any less.

Would never see the forest or the mountains or the glistening river again. Would never smell the sweet scent of flowers heralding Spring or hear the birds sing him awake to another early dawn.

Would never go on another hunt, would never ….He lost his train of thought as the Governor's face looming over him and the sound of Carol's screams and gunfire gradually faded away as they were being replaced by that green meadow from their childhood near their home. The one surrounded by the rustling forest – their favourite place where they'd felt happy and safe from their father. The place where he met Merle again still in his dreams and talked to him.

A memory came to him then, unbidden, of racing his brother there one early summer's day past the white flowers with the glowing golden hearts in their centres. Even though Merle had given him a considerable headstart – his short eight year old legs had been no match for his 16 year old brother's long, lanky ones , his big brother swiftly caught up with him. Almost overtaking him but not quite.

'Beat ya to it, baby brother!' He heard him call out behind him.

But then Merle was holding back and letting him run ahead for a while before rushing at him suddenly and scooping him up easily under one arm. Carrying him as he ran like this for a while before they fell down, their legs and arms entangled and laughing together.

He smiled gently at this as the life began to leave his body. Dying wasn't so bad because now he could hear his brother calling to him. He'd be with Merle again, this time forever.

'Daryl, come here boy! I'm here, waitin' for ya!' And he was running, running with his eight year old legs to his big brother in the distance, who had his arms already open, outstretched to scoop him up in that glistening green field. Running to the one person he loved most in the world.

His eyes were unfocused, their bright blue looking at something or someone the Governor couldn't see. While a gentle smile played round his lips.


	39. Salvation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Governor is slowly killing Daryl and it looks like he's going to die. Worse – it seems like he wants to die to be with his brother who is calling him from the Great Beyond. What's going to happen with Carol and will the prison group finally be victorious? Or will the Governor win?

i

Earlier....

Randy had shoved him roughly against the wall and Daryl could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. Worse – him pressing his hardness into him. 'Come here, sweetie.' He said loudly as he felt the other man shake and struggle. Stroked the Dixon's hair - he meant it to be soothing but to Daryl it felt sleazy. 'Randy won't hurt ya...much. Not even after what ya did to me. ' He laughed out loud then. 'Ya should be grateful that I'm such a nice guy.'  
'Fuck you! Ya goin' be the first to die when this is all over. You and ya friend as well as ya sick fuck boss. My people are gonna clear this place out of scum like you even if he kills me.'  
'Thought they weren't ya people no more and ya came alone?' Randy guffawed loudly at catching the captive out as he listened to the other's footsteps reluctantly fade away. After a safe amount of time, he went to the door and looked around for a second, keeping his gun trained on the prisoner behind him. Daryl's eyes grew wide in surprise after he turned round to face him again and Randy wasn't risking taking his eyes off him longer than he had to. He knew that the Dixon would try and rush him, was capable of overpowering him even with his hands behind his back.  
Had already proved how strong he was.  
Randy breathed an audible sigh of relief after locking the door behind him.  
Daryl was wondering what the fuck he was doing – why had he got off him? Why wasn't he fucking him already? Not that he wasn't grateful for this short respite because he knew that's all it was.  
He knew what was going to happen even as the steeled himself for the pain. He was going to fight – make it as difficult for the bastard as he could.  
Not like it hadn't happened to him before but that was long ago and he'd just been a kid. He'd survived that – he knew he could survive anything.  
God, he's so intimidating – even with his hands cuffed behind his back. The heavy thought as he looked at him but he found himself unable to look into those icy blue, hard as diamonds, merciless Dixon eyes.  
He put his hands up. Approached the prisoner slowly who despite himself, backed himself against the wall away from him as far as he could go. Randy stopped at whispering distance.  
'Now that we're alone...' He spoke low between them, 'Don't worry – I ain't a pervert like most of them here and I don't fuck men either. Not by choice, he meant because when they were all doing it to prisoners, he couldn't refuse. Would have looked suspicious. And I'm sorry about before – had to put on a show for that other sick fuck so he would leave us alone. Don't worry – I'll keep him off ya because I fuckin' hate those pansy homo fags. Anyway, I'm one of them.'  
Daryl stopped moving and looked at him in shock.  
'What? Who?' He was genuinely puzzled. Narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the guard – didn't trust him – could still be a trap – to try and find out more information, he thought to himself.  
'I belong to the group who got ya inside. The resistance. We ain't happy with the way things are here – what he's been doin'. Sick fuck's doing it to kids now – boys.' The rough man sneered in disgust.  
'What the fuck?' Daryl widened his eyes in horror and revulsion. Shuddered because he had his own personal experience of that kind of thing and Rick had hinted at something like this but still he couldn't have imagined how low the crazy fuck had really sunk.  
'Yeah. He's made a lot of enemies, bastard's out of control.'  
'Don't fuckin' believe ya. What's the code word?'  
Randy held his glare unflinchingly. 'Salvation21.'  
Daryl nodded and lowered his stare.  
'Now, I'm gonna tell ya our plan but ya gotta play along. It's our only chance – don't know where ya people are.'  
'Me neither.' Daryl really didn't know. 'We got separated when we went to meet our contacts. I hope they're OK – ain't been captured yet.'  
'Let's hope so.' They continued to speak to each other in a low voice, all the while Randy was keeping an ear out for approaching footsteps because any time now, the Governor would send for the prisoner he'd been waiting for so long with such anticipation. Or Mike would finish his duties – Randy was taking his break – two hours due to him to 'guard' the prisoner while he covered him. They often did this when they had prisoners to play with. But soon, he would be banging on the door, demanding his turn with him.  
'Don't know how long we got. Now listen...he's gonna want me to be in there with ya. Trusts me. Bad for him.' The guard sniggered as they began to form their plan. The guard unlocked the cuffs around his wrists and Daryl sighed with relief and rubbed his wrists gratefully. He couldn't stand them – less than other people – they brought up bad memories of his father. But he'd ignored the rising panic when they'd put them on him – pushed it aside and focused on survival.  
After some time, Randy began to get nervous - sensed the time was drawing near. Luckily, still no sign of Mike.  
'Now, I'm gonna have to put these back on ya but I'm gonna break them – make them a little loose so when the time's right, ya can fight back. Ya gotta pretend that you're helplessly restrained, OK?'  
Daryl sighed but turned his back to him, offered up his wrists. 'Let's get this over with – let's put this sick fuck down.' He added determinedly. 'About time somebody did.'

ii.  
Even earlier...

They crept along, weapons drawn. Once they'd been let through the barrier – thanks to their contacts inside, they made their way along Woodbury High Street. The other group would be following behind them, closely. Better to divide into two teams –that had been Daryl's idea- in case one of them got captured.  
It was eerily deserted, the air felt heavy. They kept to the sides of the houses lining the street, some windows were lit from the inside and they could see the flicker of people moving inside them. They hid in the shadows as much as possible to avoid any guards doing their rounds.  
'No one about, thanks to the curfew.' Rick explained. 'Makes it all easier for us.'  
'Curfew?' Michonne looked puzzled.  
'Yep – he's cracking down.' He answered her.  
'This way to the Infirmary.' Michonne beckoned them down a side street. She'd drawn a map for the others for them to follow.  
…  
They crept along the sterile, white -tiled corridors, luckily still having not encountered any guards when Daryl stopped. That in itself was strange or maybe not. He' heard a sound – more like something between a snarl and a whimper. Someone – or something was in pain and the noise was grating at him and he couldn't believe none of the others seemed to have heard. He motioned the others silently to go ahead. 'Catch up with ya in a minute.' He told them. 'Jus' wanna check somethin' out.'  
'OK.' Rick agreed reluctantly but he knew that the tough hunter could take care of himself. 'But make sure ya do, we need ya.'  
Daryl made his way quickly and silently towards the sound. To the Biter pens behind the lab.  
Saw something that made his stomach turn, filling him with a curious mixture of revulsion and pity. The bile was rising up from his chest to his throat but he managed not to vomit.  
Jamie looked at him – the man looked rough but not unkind. Something made him trust him anyway because the other was looking at him with horror mixed with compassion.  
'Please...' He croaked – trying to speak but his voice sounding more like a Biter growl as his skin was falling off his bones. Didn't matter – his eyes spoke volumes enough for him and the man understood. They'd forgotten about him and he was in excruciating agony as his body fell apart.  
'What the fuck did they do to ya?' Daryl asked softly.  
'Please...ya know what I want. There's no hope for me.'  
'I'm sorry.' The Dixon said as he drew back his crossbow. Put the young man out of his misery.  
'Don't be.' Jamie spoke his last words.  
Daryl turned to the other Walkers – growling and snarling, snapping at him – trying to sink their fangs into his living flesh. Dispatched them and picked up the bolts from their skulls.  
Left to join the others – he knew the way they'd gone and ran into the guards despite his caution – two teams were coming along at once from different directions.  
'Well, well. Here's the one everyone's talking about.' They taunted him an he fought, struggled, got in a few kicks and punches himself but it took four of them to subdue him. 'Tell us where the rest of ya people are. We know ya didn't come here alone, they've come to rescue that ugly, skinny, old bitch, haven't they? Don't know why ya bothered.'  
'I left them.' he looked up at them, making his expression as honest and innocent as possible. 'Fuckin' assholes got my brother killed.' The genuine rage and grief was clear on his face and they almost believed him.  
Almost but not quite. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to interrogate him – play with him to get the answers out of him because the Governor wanted that pleasure all for himself. The tall, skinny black man with the bad teeth who looked like he was the leader of the pack stroked the Dixon's cheek almost lovingly.  
'Fuck off, ya filthy faggot.' The hunter growled at him defiantly even as he cringed back. They laughed at this.  
'Shame, pretty boy, that he wants ya all to himself. Of course he does. But later when he's bored with ya and he will be, we'll come by and play with ya. How would ya like that, huh?'  
'I'll fuckin' kill ya.'  
They guffawed even louder at that.  
'Ya take him, the Governor wants this one alive. Got special plans for him.' Their leader told Randy and Mike and the excitement was clear on their faces.. 'But ya not to touch him or mess him up too badly – 'cos he wants him all for himself. Ya hear?'  
Randy and Mike's faces fell at this. 'OK.' They grumbled as they manhandled the cuffed prisoner to the interrogation rooms. Put him in a holding cell there until the Governor was ready for him. 

iii.  
Back to the present...

But then it all changed and the world spun black as the meadow disappeared just before he got to him. He felt the hard floor of the interrogation room behind him and the Governor's hands around his neck, heard the gunshots and shouts. Even as he felt grief tear through him anew and screamed in frustration as the one person he loved most in the world was gone just when they'd been about to be reunited forever.  
Not least because all the pain – all the shit- all the fighting for survival - was about to be over forever.  
'Fight back! It's not time to die yet, baby brother!' Merle was no longer there but he heard his dead brother's voice snarling in his head. 'Kill the bastard!'  
The Governor started, was taken aback despite himself at the gentle smile playing on the dying man's face because Daryl looked happy – at peace even and he felt cheated. The redneck's eyes were unfocused, their bright blue looking at something or someone the Governor couldn't see. His only regret was that he never got to discover the prisoner's charms – break him – see the light die out of the man's eyes slowly before he finally had him killed. But only after he'd used him up, turned him into an empty shell.  
Without meaning to, his hands slackened slightly around the young man's throat...

Daryl came to slowly, managing to draw in a slight, shuddery breath full of blessed oxygen. Not much but it was enough. Gave him enough oxygen to do what he had to do. He could still hear his brother's voice in his head, snarling him on. 'Now! Ya only get one chance, Darlena. Do it now!'  
Somehow, from somewhere he found the energy – grasped around about him and found what he was looking for. What he'd missed. Or maybe hadn't been there before when he passed out. He thought the latter was more likely.  
Before he could react, the Dixon had grabbed it and clubbed the side of his enemy's head with it. Aiming deliberately for the temple. The Governor staggered back but still didn't go down. Daryl knew he was a tough bastard – ferociously strong. Never mind, the brief respite had given him the break he needed and he took advantage of having the upper hand again and clubbed him again. And again.  
Until the Governor was lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor. He could hear gunshots – Randy was doing his best to keep the others away in the corridor but he was only one man. Probably other rebels had joined him otherwise the room would have been swamped already Then Daryl heard more excieted shouts and shots. Rick was outside! Michonne too and he even heard Glenn's voice. His desire to be with his family again was almost overwhelming.  
'I'm in here with Carol! She's alive!' He yelled to them outside. Heard Rick's answering cry,  
Heard them running closer. Shooting at whatever people outside in the corridor who were still defending the Governor – not many, he guessed.  
They'd found him and come for him! Must have guessed that he'd got himself captured – stupid asshole – and knew where he'd been taken – after all Glenn and Maggie had been here before. Thanks to his brother - but he didn't dwell on that thought.  
Carol watched all this with amazement, one moment her friend was passed out, his lips going blue while the Governor throttled him, the next he seemed to revive and find the pistol that she saw drop out of the bastard's pocket when he wasn't looking. So intent on killing the Dixon.  
How could that be? She deliberately didn't look at Daryl as he put on his clothes in a hurry – as all the time he watched the fallen tyrant like a hawk for any signs of stirring. It was bad enough that she had seen him naked. She didn't know how the miracle had happened – only that it had. 

The Governor reached up and looked like he overpowered him but at the last minute, was so confident that he'd won, was so enthralled by the look on his enemy's face as he apparently lay dying that he reacted too slow. Allowing the hunter to reach up and pistol-whip him.  
Already, the bastard was recovering consciousness. Trying to weakly raise himself up on his arms until Daryl cocked the pistol, turned the safety off. Of course - he was a strong son-of-a-bitch, had to be to take Merle out, Daryl thought to himself bitterly as he aimed the thankfully loaded pistol at him.  
Randy came back into the room and Daryl was glad to see him still alive. Even if he sensed that he was a scumbag who had done many questionable things under the Governor. 'Everything's been taken care of. The others came to help, just like I told them to.' He stared down dispassionately at their stirrring former leader, bleeding from his head.  
'I got him.' Daryl motioned with his pistol. 'Untie Carol, would ya?' He would have done himself but he wasn't taking his eye off his enemy, knew what a tricky son-of-a-bitch he was.  
Randy did as he was told while Carol sighed with relief and rubbed her sore wrists. She was past being embarrassed at this point, even under-dressed as she was. Daryl had chivalrously avoided looking at her except for the first time – when he hadn't known she was there and the shock had been clear on his face. Nevertheless, he threw her a blanket from the corner without looking at her. Even if it was stained with blood and God knows what else and was smelly, (she dreaded to think what the last prisoner to use it had endured) she gratefully drew it around her. At least she felt less naked and on show.  
The Governor was fully conscious now, clutching the side of his head with one hand and grimacing at the pounding pain there. Coming to the situation and where he was, he raised his eyes with a grown.  
Daryl saw in his eyes that he knew his pistol was loaded and that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he made one false move.  
'Put on ya fuckin' pants.' He ordered his tormentor as he pulled them on without his underwear in his hurry to obey. 'Least ya can do 'cos we don't want ta look at that anyway.'  
'Please...please don't kill me.'  
The Dixon smirked.  
'Please...my daughter...'  
'She's already dead.'  
'Please...my people...'  
'Most of them want ya dead.' Daryl retorted coldly.  
The Governor looked up at him in shocked disbelief.  
'What?' Daryl sneered at him. 'Ya didn't know? Jus' thought ya could keep on doin' that sick shit - rapin' kids for fuck's sake, killin' and torturin' ya own people and they'd just roll over and take it?' He shook his head then and tutted at him. 'Ya really are one crazy fuck, ain't ya?'  
'Ya lyin'.' The Governor raised his chin defiantly and glared back into the Dixon's eyes with blazing hatred and...lust. Despite himself, he still wanted him. But looking into his eyes, he found only unreadable icy cold there – no rage, not even hatred there. They were merely implacable without an ounce of mercy. Somehow, this was worse than rage or hatred – he knew that the Dixon somehow knew that he'd been the one to kill his brother and he shivered in fear despite himself.  
'My people...they love me, respect me...ask them...'  
'Let's see, shall we? Let's go and ask them what I should do with ya.' Daryl made to go to the door.  
Randy sniggered.  
'No.'  
'No?' Daryl stopped and leant down to shake him hard like a ragdoll. 'Why? Ya afraid of what they'd say?'  
'Get up.' The Dixon pulled him to his feet. 'Let's go and see. See if they want to save ya.'  
The Governor really started to struggle then. 'No...no..please.' He begged.  
Daryl stopped. 'Why?'  
The Governor looked down at his feet. Then up at Randy in appeal instead. 'Please...I saved ya..took ya in when ya had nothing...Don't let him...'  
But the heavy agreed with the Dixon.'Fuck you. He's right. Ya should have heard what they want to do with ya. Make it long and painful – make ya suffer a long, long time before they finally kill ya, ya fuckin' kiddie-fucker.'  
Philip looked up at Daryl again in appeal. 'Ya ain't like me, I know. I can tell ya a good man.'  
'Yeah. That's why I'm not goin' to hand ya over to them.'  
The Governor breathed a sigh of relief. 'Thank-you, thank-you.' He gabbled, misunderstanding. 'Ya won't regret it, I promise. We can live in peace together – here - ya people and mine. How about that?' He looked up hopefully at the man looming over him with his crossbow.  
Randy raised his eyebrow in surprise. 'What?' He looked over at the Dixon sharply, still training his gun on the bastard in case he should make any sudden moves.  
''Cos I'm gonna do it.' Daryl ruthlessly pushed the man down to his knees as he began to struggle ,tried to get up. 'Randy!' Daryl called him over. 'Hold him down for me, will ya?'  
'With pleasure.' The heavy smirked down at the condemned man contemptuously.  
'Please...please...' The Woodbury leader looked into those icy blue Dixon eyes. But found no mercy in them.  
'Ya beggin' me?' Daryl's voice rose in rage. 'Ya fuckin' coward!' Now he was showing some emotion. 'At least have some fuckin' dignity. Ya can dish it out but can't take it – jus' like I thought. Ya ought to be thankin' me for makin' it quick and painless, not like they would, believe me, ya sick fuck.'  
Daryl aimed his crossbow directly at the man's heart, was drawing back when the door burst open and Rick first and then the rest of their group, followed by Milton and two other people - Daryl didn't recognise – looked like doctors in their white coats burst through.  
'Don't do it!' The ex-cop yelled. 'We need to have due process – a trial.'  
'Do it!' Michonne contradicted Rick who turned round and glared at her. Glenn and Michonne and the two strangers just looked on without saying anything.  
'Don't!' Carol added her voice and he looked at her in surprise. How could she plead for the man's life after everything he had done to her?  
'Fuck justice. Never did me or mine any good. ' Daryl snarled back at his friend. Sometimes Rick still acted like things were still the way they were.  
He looked directly, coldly at the Governor who was still begging, pleading with him to spare him.  
'If ya do this, you'll regret it the rest of ya life. Ya better than this.' Rick tried one last time.  
'No, I won't.' The Dixon retorted quietly but stubbornly. Determinedly.  
Daryl turned back to the pleading man. 'For Merle.' He said simply. 'And all the others.' He drew back and finally let fly. The Governor slumped back, blood bubbling up into his mouth. The hunter's aim had been right on the mark as usual – he'd pierced his heart.  
Randy let him fall to the floor. The light was already leaving the man's eyes. 

'Could never have trusted him anyway. Bastard was crazy as fuck.' This was the Dixon's last words on the matter before he rushed over to Carol. 'How long ya been sittin' there?' His face softened for the first time since they'd come to Woodbury, this time in concern for her. Milton and Maggie ran over to her as well, helping her up onto her shaky legs, her arm round her.  
'Are you OK?' Milton gasped. 'I'm sorry I couldn't stop him the last few times...Forgive me.'  
'There's nothin' to forgive. ' Carol replied calmly. 'Would have been a lot worse if it wasn't for you.'  
'Right. Let's get ya to the Infirmary, OK?' Maggie suggested.  
'We can treat her there.' One of the men in white added.  
'Did he hurt ya?' Daryl gently took her jaw and held it in one hand. Looked deeply into her eyes with concern. 'Tell me the truth.'  
'No...not much.'  
He shuddered. 'He didn't...didn't...?'  
She knew what he was skirting round. Delicately for him. 'No. I'm OK – Daryl. Nothing that won't heal in time.' She lied.  
He breathed a sigh of relief.  
'Are you OK?' She asked him and he knew what she was talking about but he also trusted her to not to mention it in front of the group. What had almost happened with the Governor – that the bastard had made him aroused against his will. The humiliation - in front of her.  
He blushed furiously red and shyly looked down at the horrible memory. 'Yeah. I gotta be.'  
Rick looked at him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Daryl left it there – didn't shake it off. But he knew that the prison leader would confront him about going against his orders and shooting the Governor in cold blood. But then the bastard hadn't killed his brother – or done the other things that he never wanted any of them to know. He would never be able to understand.  
But they could deal with that later.  
Main thing was – they'd freed Woodbury, Randy had told them that the people who still supported the Governor (precious few) had been rounded up and put in the interrogation pens. They would be dealt with later.  
There would be a tentative meeting between the two groups to decided what was going to happen next.


	40. Part 2: Passover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before the prison group go after the Governor with an alternate ending. Please read author's notes at the end but don't before you read the whole chapter unless you want a spoiler. Daryl meets Michonne after Merle releases her and he goes off to find his brother. Will he find him and how will he find him?

i

Daryl 

I saw the Walker feeding from afar and something about it was hideously familiar. The build, the way it moved, that blond hair waving in the wind.  
'Merle!' I screamed at it as I ran over, crossbow drawn and ready. Sobs already beginning to tear my throat – Fuck I hated crying but couldn't help it, my eyes tearing up – ready - if it I was my brother. 

Then it raised its head and I saw it wasn't him, just some poor bastard who looked like him but the face was different – narrower. Younger. Same broad build, – slightly bigger than me, same redneck fashion sense with the same shade of blond hair tussling in the wind. But thankfully, thank God, I thought even though I told myself I didn't believe in him.   
Never had – he had never saved me or cared a damn about me. 

'Merle!' I was still, stupidly sobbing like a girl but now with relief.  
The walker looked up at me then from where it had its face buried in the growled deep in its throat when it saw fresh meat offered to it on a plate.   
I got into fighting mode, especially when I saw the body it was feeding on start to twitch. Looked like the remains of a woman. Apparently, the zombies only needed their brains reasonably intact to resurrect, no surprise there, we knew me and Merle had figured it out long before the group did. I'd been the one to tell them, in fact.  
I could take them on – I could take on ten Walkers at the same time, had done loads of time.   
I calmed my body down and ran at it before it could get up, stabbed it in the head with my hunting knife. Why use the crossbow at this short range?  
The corpse that used to be a woman reached out with its arm, snapping at me but it couldn't get up because both its legs had been bitten off, it looked like. 'Come on then,' I told it before I stabbed it in the head too. They were slow – a child could kill one, trouble was when a herd came along.   
I looked around, no sign of Walkers. Sheathed my knife.  
'Merle!' I screamed for my brother but somehow I had a sense of renewed hope. Like the Walker I had found crouched over the woman's body should have been him somehow but fate had passed over my brother.   
Weird how I got these strange feelings and hunches that turned out to be true, more often than not. My brother said I got them from our mother, she always said she had the sixth sense from her Cherokee side.  
But neither of us believed in that shit.   
Even so, I shivered because I knew that there would be a price to pay for the return of my brother back to me – someone else I cared about would have to die instead. Now I wasn't worried about him, knew I would find him now but who would I lose instead? Rick? Carol? Carl?  
I didn't ask anyone to die for him. How could I choose?  
Judith? Please not little asskicker, please not her -not after everything we'd gone through to save her.

And I don't know who or what the hell I was praying to, it was just instinctive.

How did I know all this? Don't ask me. It just was.

Is.

ii.

I spent hours walking to follow his tracks because I knew vaguely which direction he was going in – to Woodbury of course and I knew it was him. Michonne told me they were in a car before he let her go, pointed out the direction he'd gone.

I eventually saw him limping towards me, knew it was him for sure this time. Ran up to him, yelling his name. He stopped as soon as he saw me, raised one eyebrow above one half-swollen eye. 'Well, well, baby brother.' He greeted me sardonically. I took in his battered face and his blood-spattered T-shirt. Feared that he'd been fatally wounded even though I knew he was OK – I sensed that the deal had already been carried out but at least the sword on his prosthesis was still intact. Covered in blood in fact - probably Walker and human if I knew my brother.  
'Merle.' I started to sob without meaning to, this time with relief. 'Motherfucker! 'Merle!' I screamed at him while he just grinned infuriatingly at me, still the same old cocky Merle despite his considerable injuries before he removed the sword from his prosthesis. Carelessly tossed it aside. 'Stupid dumbass, could'ave got yaself killed!' And before I knew it I was running at him, shoving him away roughly and swiping at him and backing off again because I was so mad that I had nearly lost him. Sobbing and cursing him at the same time.  
'Fuckin' idiot! Always have to play the hero, don't ya?' I ran at him again and again, shoving him hard and darting away again. I was ecstatic and furious at the same time.   
Good job that he knew what I wanted, what I needed, better than I knew myself. Because while I pushed him away, all I wanted to do was be as close to him as possible, never let him go. So, the next time I ran at him, he grabbed me hard and let us fall backwards to the ground with him drawing me with him. 'Merle!' I sobbed into his chest as I fisted the front of his shirt in both hands while he wound his arms around my back.  
'Come here, boy. It's OK. It's OK. I'm here now. ' He crooned at me and I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. Then I heard him murmur endearments in my ear. Didn't sound like he knew what he was saying but anyway, he seemed as glad and relieved to see me alive as I was him. Of course he was – we were like two halves of a whole – neither one could live without the other and reassuringly now I could hear his strong heartbeat against my ear.   
'Ya alive!' I cried, frantically feeling him all over his body like I couldn't believe it, checking his chest carefully under his shirt for bullet or knife wounds but I found none. He was just a little bruised up, that was all because his clothes were covered in others' blood. I hoped it was the fuckin' Governor's.   
'Ya hurt, Merle?' I cried, looking up at him with my chest hitching in and out.   
'Nah, just a scratch, a few bruises. Leg's busted.' I'd see him limp. 'But I killed more of them bastards.' He sniggered. 'Now, what ya blubbering for, little Darlena? Ya sound jus' like a girl.' He chided me not unkindly and stroked my hair fondly with his good hand. 'Ya didn't think ya could get rid of ole Merle that easily, did ya? Takes more than that pussy in Woodbury to finish me off.'  
I looked up at him hopefully then. 'I saw Michonne. Did ya kill him then, Merle? Is it over?'  
He glanced away. 'I couldn't get to him but I took out about a dozen of his men. Fewer for us to deal later.'  
'By yaself?' I looked at him sceptively. Didn't think even Merle could pull that one off.  
'Well...I had some help from some of our rotting friends.' He finally admitted.  
I grinned at that – even through tears because my brother was really smart – always used what was around him to his advantage. That was the Dixon way.  
'Stop fuckin' cryin'.' He ordered me almost harshly because I was still sobbing uncontrollably and he hugged me closer to him again because I was imagining that I had lost him for good. Remembering the dreams that seemed to warn me that I was going to lose him. He gently wiped away my tears from my cheeks with dirty fingertips as I struggled to get myself back under control.   
Like a fuckin' Dixon.  
Still holding me, being extra careful with me because of his prosthesis even though he'd removed the sword from it, he started rocking me back and forth comfortingly in his arms. 'Hush. It's over, it's over.' He soothed. 'Don't cry for me, little Darlena.' He said. 'I ain't worth it. But I would have died to keep ya safe. I love ya, baby brother.' He kissed the top of my head.  
I started in shock. Had he really said he loved me?  
'I know. Love ya too.' I replied gruffly without looking at him and buried my face in his chest because the unfamiliar words felt strange and too big for my mouth. Breathing in that old familiar scent that was Eau de Merle – that is: leather, diesel, cigarettes, booze and sweat mixed with Old Spice but loving it just the same. Brought back so many memories. Maybe telling someone that you loved them definitely was not the Dixon way but maybe a close brush with death changed things, made you want to say the things that would have been left unsaid. 

Just in case it was too late and you never got the chance to say them to the one you love.   
I'd just got a second chance and I thanked whatever power had given it to us.

iii.

I clung onto his arm as we made our way back besides, he needed the support because of his bad leg. Anyway, I was still not fully able to believe that he'd really come back to me and felt like I never wanted to let him go again. Fortunately we found a car we could hotwire so got back quickly now I didn't have to follow his tracks.   
Everyone greeted me and ignored Merle or looked at him suspiciously. Rick and Herschel greeted me warmly with relief but merely glanced at him but didn't say they were glad he was back. Glenn and Maggie glared at him with open hostility without saying a word. It didn't matter - I knew what they were thinking – it was a shame he had made it back even though they would have been sad for me, of course. So far, however, it looked like everyone in the prison was safe and well.   
'Don't mind them.' I told him. 'Maybe not them but the rest will come around eventually.   
I pulled an unresistingly Merle into my cell while Beth glanced us curiously - maybe even a little jealously -after I'd given her only a brief kiss in greeting.   
'I'll see ya tomorrow, jus' got to sort out some stuff with my brother, OK?' I wasn't really asking her, I was telling her. Not caring what it looked like, what people would think because all I wanted then was my brother. I didn't give a flyin' fuck then – they could all go to hell in a handcart.  
'Fine.' She replied dismissively as she turned round to go. I could tell she was disappointed – was looking forward to our reunion – in bed.   
Too bad – me too – but all I wanted at the moment in time was my big brother after being so close to losing him.  
Because I didn't want to let him out of my sight – not the first night he was back. I needed to keep convincing myself that he was really there, alive and well. If a little bruised and battered.  
He sat down on the lower bunk after I closed the door behind us. Beckoned me over and I went to him eagerly because all I wanted was him. To feel his arms around me, his body against mine, solid, not a dream – not like the nightmares I'd been having, warning me that he was about to leave me forever.   
'M...Merle.' I shudderingly breathed now that we were alone with each other and I didn't have to pretend any more. All my love and longing was in my voice for the only family I had left. I'd forgiven him for everything – even for our father and leaving me with him. He knew it then as he pulled me down and drew my head into his lap while I stretched out my legs on the cot. I was starting to finally relax as I got comfortable and I put my arms around the top of his legs, never wanting to let him go, even now. Then he pulled the blankets over me and tucked me in and started to stroke my hair gently.   
'Why don't ya wanna be with ya girl, huh? She's waitin' for ya, boy and ya turnin' her down? Ya turn down pussy offered on a plate to be with ya useless, ugly ole big brother?' He smirked like he couldn't believe it.  
'Don't talk about her like that.' I snapped, looking up to glare at him. Found myself tightening my grasp around his thighs warningly, my fingernails digging into his jeans. Why did he have be such an asshole and always spoil everything?  
'Ooh...sorry for disrespectin' ya girlfriend.' He put his hands up mockingly.   
I relaxed my grip on him because that was as close to an apology that you were ever going to get from Merle. 'Jus' wanna be with you tonight.' I said. 'I thought ...thought...the dreams...told me I'd...lo ..los...' I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't say the word.   
'It's all right. I'm here now. '' He said, more softly this time and started running his good hand with its fingers through my hair, over my scalp again while the other arm without its hand was wrapped around me on top of the blanket. Like he never wanted to let me go either. 'Ain't never gonna leave ya ever again, baby brother. Promise. And I'm gonna change, I know I wasn't always a good big brother to ya but I'm going to become a better person they can trust.  
I knew what he was talking about. Like the way he had made me tell him everything Dad did to me in all its full, filthy details. He'd had the right intentions but never knew how to go about it because my older brother was like a bull in a china shop. But I knew he'd done it only because he cared. Mainly he meant he was sorry for not being there when I needed him most but I didn't care about any of that now, none of it mattered.  
He was here now and that was the most important thing.  
'Promise?' I looked at him, demandingly.  
'Promise. Now go to sleep, ya must be tired after looking for me. I'll stay and watch over ya.'  
'Don't ya need ta?'  
He shrugged. 'Ain't tired. Feel like I slept enough when I was out cold for fuck knows how many hours.' He laughed at that.  
I knew that he would change – had changed – become a better person. He'd change to be accepted by the group so that he could stay with me. After all, he'd finally done the right thing and let Michonne go, gone after the Governor by himself to protect me and the group. Surely Rick would appreciate that – he was a fair man, more than I could say for some of the others. It was just a pity he hadn't been able to kill him but there would be time for that I thought. It was one of my last thoughts because when my brother started on the hair on my nape, brushing it back and forth just like Mama used to with his fingers, I felt myself drifting off as he stroked me to sleep. 

 

Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life  
Try to make ends meet, you're a slave to money then you die  
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
You know the one that takes you to the places  
Where all the veins meet, yeah

No change, I can change, I can change, I can change  
But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold  
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next  
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no  
[Have you ever been down]

The Verve - Bitter Sweet Symphony Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

Author's notes:

This is the first chapter of Part 2 of Daryl's story, which contains an alternate version where Merle survives after his fight with the Governor's men and is reunited with Daryl. Also I will change the narrative voice to first person in places, or change the POV within chapters as this seems to work better. The movie Final Destination inspired me to write this chapter not least because I can't bear to have one Dixon without the other. I just can't believe that they killed him off and Daryl's suffering too much without his brother, his only blood kin left to him. Besides, I have too much fun writing them together – how they interact with the love that's just beneath it all. Even if Merle is not always good for Daryl – he cares about him deeply and they need each other.  
But just like in the movie – there's going to be a price to pay for Daryl to have Merle back as Fate or Death or whatever you want to call it passes over him. Someone else close to him has to die. Who's it going to be? How will he deal with the guilt?


	41. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's going to die in payment for Daryl having his brother back? Because the Fates or God or what ever you want to call it is demanding an exchange.   
> Some 'hot' scenes – a little bit dark - please be warned, I'm not that good at writing romance but hope it is realistic.

i.  
Daryl

I woke up, wondered where I was because my head was resting on something hard for a pillow.  
Merle's legs! I hugged them harder to me when I remembered that he'd nearly been taken away from me.   
Been nearly turned into a Walker. I shook the image out of my head as I felt his hand round me tighten in response. I eased my way off him then.   
He was still sleeping, sitting upright as I slipped out of the blanket as quietly as I could. He needed his rest – his leg was still busted although he'd refused to see Herschel last night.  
Then I remembered Beth.   
I slipped out from under the blanket without waking him up. Because how long had he kept watch over me while I slept? I had an idea that it had been for hours.  
I made my way to the kitchen, bumped into Beth on the way.  
'Hi.' I said carefully. 'How ya doin'?'  
'Fine. How's Merle?'   
'He needs to see Herschel about his leg but important thing is he's alive.'  
'I'm glad for you.' She answered carefully but something alerted to me that she wasn't really sincere. She always had such perfect Southern belle manners, always said the right thing – the complete opposite to me and my brother. but I sensed that she was probably she was still pissed at me because I'd chosen my brother over her. Just last night – only for one night. And we still kept a physical distance between us as if She was obviously not happy with this because she suddenly moved towards me and put her arms around me without warning. I felt my body flinch – badly - couldn't stop it and she drew back. Offended.  
'Sorry...'  
Now her well-brought up facade tumbled and I saw the fire beneath the calm exterior. 'You don't like me anymore, is that it?'  
'No...It's jus'' I was trying to explain about how I always reacted when people touched me when I wasn't expecting it but she rounded on me, really furious now.  
'Why ya choose him over me? Ya forgot what he did to my sister and Glenn? Nobody wants him here!'  
'Ya a real bitch, ya know that? Maybe ya got everybody else fooled, little sweet Beth but we're fuckin' over now. He nearly fucking died!'  
'Fuck you! I wish he had!' She screamed right back at me and I stared at her in shock. Beth swore? Since when? I mean, it wasn't like I wasn't used to loud, swearing women – like the ones we'd grown up with, like Merle's women but her?  
I realised that she wasn't what she pretened to be. Or maybe she'd toughened up – most people had to survive. She ran at me suddenly and started punching me with her baby balled-up fists. And I really flinched back then, was cowering back from her onslaught, feeling the shame wash through me at letting myself get beat up by a girl until I started to react.  
'If ya weren't a girl,' I hissed in her ear after I recovered enough to grab her pretty roughly in a restraining bearhug. Pinning her arms to her sides and even so, she still fought me, hissing and snarling at me like an alley cat, 'I'd hurt ya really bad for sayin' shit like that about my brother.'   
I let her go then and shoved her rudely away. But she ran at me, leaping into my arms and wrapping her legs round my waist. Raining down kisses onto my face but this time I was ready for her. Until I started to respond just as hungrily, running my hands under her shirt – over her skin. Up and down over he ribs. Not caring who may catch sight of us. 

iii.

Beth 

I couldn't help being hurt that he preferred to spend the night with his brother – doing what? I couldn't help thinking even though I hated myself for it. Just the way he was clinging onto Merle – and Merle him - weird to say the least.   
I also couldn't help that I wish his brother hadn't come back because he was bad news and I couldn't forget how he'd handed over Maggie to the Governor. What had she done to him? Nothing – hadn't even been part of the group who left him on top of that roof that he kept going on about.   
And yes – I was jealous of him because Daryl loved him more than he loved me and I knew this.  
He'd never love me like a man really loved a woman, I sensed this even though I was only 17 and he was the second man I'd ever been with. Not like Glen loved my sister – I could see it in his eyes everytime he looked at her and now he had proposed. Although I was happy for her, a stab of jealousy always tore me apart inside when I saw them together. Always wishing I had the same with my boyfriend.  
Something was missing and I feared I was lacking even though I tried my best. Was it the age difference? That didn't really matter any more. More likely it was me.

Images of them together were tumbling around my head which I knew couldn't be true – just my imaginationn running riot, I told myself as I crept to his cell to spy on them. Couldn't resist. Of course the door was locked – another omnious sign that they were up to no good. I drew back the bolt on the feeding hole as quietly as I could. Luckily, someone had oiled it recently. The spy hole that the screws used to spy on inmates had been blacked out from the inside of course, Daryl liked to preserve his privacy.   
I needn't have worried, it wasn't what I expected to see like maybe Merle taking some form of sick advantage of Daryl - he was such a pervert who made my skin crawl - or bullying him like he often did in front of everyone else. In fact, I found myself gasping at the scene before me as my heart leapt into my throat of its own accord. Daryl was lying down, apparently asleep on the cot with his head in his brother's lap. Covered by a blanket while his older brother stroked his hair so tenderly – almost hesitantly, just like he thought Daryl was made of fragile glass and was afraid of shattering him. Even though my boyfriend's eyes were closed and he was apparently sleeping, his brother wasn't – his were wide open, staring into space. Or a memory. I'd never imagined in a million years that Merle could ever be like that with Daryl – that he could love. How he was with him when he thought no one was watchng. I felt a moment of panic when I realised that he must have heard me draw back the small bolt on the door. He turned his eyes to meet mine then and smirked when he saw me there. Looking like the cat who got the cream and I hated him for it then. For taking Daryl away from me – even if it was for only one night even though I knew that Daryl needed him. His only family left – needed him more than anybody else in the world.   
Even more than me. I thought bitterly to myself.  
I quickly broke eye-contact with him – to be honest, his penetrating stare was giving me the creeps, especially as his mouth was twisted mockingly and I closed the feeding hole. Went back instead to my own cold, lonely bed.   
Curled up into a ball and tried not to hate Daryl's brother.  
The next morning we bumped into each other while I was fetching milk for Judith. It was awkward like when we'd started our relationship and that had taken long enough. All I wanted to do was hug him, say all the right things – even lies like I was glad to see his brother until he flinched when I hugged him. Making me mad!  
I attacked him, half expecting him to hit me back but he didn't. He'd never hurt me no matter what did, despite the waves of danger he always had streaming out of him – his badboy aura. However, I remembered Jimmy slapping me once when we had a fight – can't even remember what I'd said. He'd been shocked at himself and immediately apologised and I'd said that I'd forgiven him but afterwards I never felt the same about him again. Especially as I knew that if Daddy ever found out, he'd banned him from seeing me for sure.  
Now, however we were kissing and he was different to what he was before. There was a different energy to his kisses – could I see rougher, somehow darker?  
Not so tentative or gentle like he usually was.  
He mouth moved from my lips and made its way down my neck. Nipping and biting, once hard enough to draw blood – I knew because I felt it trickling down my throat. He licked it away like a vampire! He'd never done that before but the place his tongue touched felt like it was burning.  
I gasped at the intense pleasure mixed with pain and he stopped, looked at me intently, questioningly.  
'Are you OK?' He was worried that he'd gone to far and hurt me. As if.  
When I nodded, he snarled in my ear, 'Wanna try somethin' different?'  
I lent forward and looked back into his eyes, as we both tried to get our breaths back from our intense kissing.   
'Like what?'  
'Rougher. Sexier.'  
'OK.' I breathed, getting excited now.   
He picked me up to begin with, not caring who might see us. Other people were starting to get up by now. I almost made him put me down but then I thought I didn't care. Wasn't like people didn't know we were together.   
From what seemed far-off I heard catcalls but couldn't tell who was making them, didn't see anybody on the way back to my cell. I guessed that's where he was taking me because no doubt his brother was still sleeping in his. Instead of inhibiting me, these made me bolder as I shameless reached under his shirt to play with his nipples. He grunted, stifling a moan because I was doing what I knew he liked – next, I even reached down the front of his trousers.   
'Ya better stop otherwise I won't be able to hold back until we get there. Will jus' put ya down and do ya here infront of everyone.' He threatened me playfully but I didn't stop.  
Looked up at him defiantly. 'Do it then.' He laughed at this and started to hurry towards the prison block. When we got there he threw me down on the bed, not gentle like he usually was.   
'What's ya safeword?' He looked down at me.  
'Wha...what's a safeword?' He smirked at my ignorance and my lack of experience.  
'If things get too rough or I hurt you or you want to stop, you say the safeword. Then I'll stop.'  
Despite myself, I felt myself shudder. What was he talking about hurting me?  
I must have still looked confused or scared because apparently he changed his mind.  
'No, I ain't doin' it. Ya don't even know the rules.' He started to strip anyway.  
'No...wait...' I stopped him because I was curious.  
'We choose a word like a code word if I want to stop?'  
He looked at me. 'Yeah – that's it.'  
I sat up on the bed, brazenly started taking my blouse and bra off. Enjoying him staring at me with that need, letting me know with his eyes how beautiful he found my body. His eyes grew wide but still he didn't move, didn't pull off his clothes.   
'Seriously? Ya wanna try it? Ya sure?' His eyes lit up.  
'How about 'salvation' as a ...what's it called...'safe word'?' He looked at me with surprise at my choice but then he nodded.   
'I might call ya a slut, a stupid bitch, might not be respectful.'  
'OK. I wanna try.' He stared at me like he saw me for the first time. Maybe he had.  
'Ya sure?' He asked again, he obviously was unsure himself.  
'Yes, Daryl!' Lock the door and get on with it.' I ordered him as he did what I told him to.

iv.

Daryl

She was lying there, topless wanting me. Willing. And actually I wasn't sure about trying this new thing – had never done it before myself. Only remembered it from the porn movies Merle used to make me watch when I was a kid, to 'educate' me.   
I locked the door and tossed her stuffed animals onto the floor as part of my act. Felt gratified when I saw her eyes open wide at that. Truth was I didn't want them staring at me – reminding me of just how very young she was.   
Tugged my pants and boxers off impatiently.  
'Get on your stomach.' I ordered her roughly. 'Ya don't do nothin' 'til I fuckin' tell ya to, bitch.'   
She turned and stared at me in surprise because I never usually talked to her like this but did as she was told.   
'Call me Daddy.' I hissed in her ear. 'I'm old enough to be him. But ya don't mind, do ya?'  
'OK.' She replied meekly, like a little girl turning me on even more.   
I tugged off her jeans and panties roughly. I'd barely touched her – only reached under her to touch her breasts briefly and she was moaning and writhing on the bed. She was hot for me already.  
'Ya hot for ya Daddy, ya horny little bitch?'  
She nodded and I slapped the back of her head lightly. Not enough to hurt.  
'Answer me properly ya little slut!'  
'Yes, Daddy.' She answered in that submissive voice that was driving me half-crazy already and I had trouble holding my self back and not just entering her from behind. Even though I didn't even know if she was ready yet.   
I started to trace my finger along her back in circles - only her back but even so she was beginning to moan.   
'So, ya don't like my big brother, bitch?'  
She shook her head.  
I grabbed her by the back of her neck then and shook her like a ragdoll. 'Answer me properly, slut! And don't ya dare lie to me!'  
'No, Daddy.' She answered obediently.  
'Ya been a very bad little girl and Daddy's gonna have to punish ya.' I sighed dramatically like I was reluctant because punishing her was a painful duty as I started tracing circles on her back again – on that lovely, creamy albaster skin.  
She writhed under my touch. 'Please...' she breathed.  
'Ya know, if I punished ya properly, I'd get my belt and make scars with I on you lovely, white skin...'  
She moaned in answer.  
'Just like my Daddy did to me....'  
She turned round to stare at me then and I swear there were tears in her eyes. I shook my head – didn't know where the shit I was saying came from but it was coming out of my mouth and I couldn't stop it.   
'But I won't do that. Have to punish ya in another way, ya dirty little slut.' I sighed heavily like this prospect pained me deeply.  
'Please...don't stop...' she moaned.  
Didn't matter because it seemed to be turning her on. Now, instead of using my finger, I kissed and licked my way down her back in swirls. Bit her buttocks on both sides, drawing blood which I licked off, sendiing her crazy. But then I stopped.  
'Ya know how I'm gonna punish ya, ya stupid little bitch?'  
'No.' She gasped and bucked.   
I grabbed her hair at her nape and twisted in a knot. Pulled it back.  
'What did ya forget to say, ya moron?'  
'No, Daddy!' I let her hair go, shoved her face back into the pillow.  
'Daddy's gonna punish ya like this.' I snarled at her, giving one of her plump yet firm buttocks a quick nip but not deep enough to draw blood.   
Stuck my finger in her asshole and wiggled it and drew it down – making her moan and buck like crazy.   
Then teasingly, I took it away again.  
'Like this.'  
She reacted immediately. 'Don't stop, Daddy!'  
I replaced my finger with my tongue and she gasped because she wasn't expecting it. Drew it lower, lower to her hot and wet cleft and she eagerly lifted her bottom half up to allow me greater access as she gasped. While I used my tongue to give her sensitive nub there my special attention. Coming up at it from below while she bucked on it. Mainly twirling and circling my tongue round it. Or flicking across it back and forth with the tip like I knew drove her absolutely crazy, making her cry 'Ooh' several times.  
'Dirty little slut.' I took a rest to breathe but she grabbed my hair painfully with both hands. 'Don't stop! Don't stop!' She screamed at me until I made he scream for real.  
Until she shuddered with a small cry and pushed my head away. Then she was telling me to stop.  
Next stage, I turned her over as she recovered her breathing.  
'That was multiple...how did ya do that?' She looked up at me in awe and astonishment while I shrugged, smirking smugly at her. Wasn't going to let her in on my secrets in the sack. I felt like a fucking king.  
'My turn?' I asked.  
She looked at my stiff, unsatisfied dick.   
'I thought ya said ya were gonna be rough...'  
'Can be if ya want me to.'  
She nodded enthusiastically as I got the belt again. Her curiousity and willingness to try new things was the most arousing thing I'd ever experienced. So, I took her hands while she lay there unresistingly, letting me do what I wanted and tied to them to the steel bars at the top of the bed. She looked surprised and curious but not frightened or uncomfortable.  
She trusted me completely. Had Merle ever had this with a woman? I doubted it. And I liked giving pleasure almost as much as receiving it and I guessed my brother was pretty selfish in bed.  
'Ya OK with your hands like this?' I asked, still checking with her anyway.  
'She nodded. Giving me all the control. Except one thing.  
'Ya remember the safeword?'  
She nodded again.   
'Right then, slut...'   
I straddled her near her head and she took me in her mouth. Making me buck and moan.  
But I soon had her moaning in my ear shortly after that.


	42. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set when Daryl and the others return after killing the Governor. What Daryl went through as his prisoner appears to stir up old wounds from his past. Can the others help him? He didn't seem to be affected at the time but probably the adrenalin and the need to be tough in order to survive were the reasons for that.  
> What will happen to Woodbury and its inhabitants? Is it really all over or is there another threat waiting to pounce from outside the prison gates?  
> Will the medical experts be able to develop a cure or at least a vaccine from Carol's blood?
> 
> Finally, will Merle behavee himself now that he's been given a second chance to fit in better with the group so that he can stay with his beloved baby brother?

i.  
Beth

Daryl had been different since he came back once the general atmosphere of celebration had passed – like he'd gone back to how he used to be. I gazed at him in anxiety, I missed him so much but he kept his distance from me. Wouldn't allow me near him.  
Maybe I shouldn't take it so personally, I thought bitterly to myself because he was keeping his distance from everybody – even his own brother, even Carol and I didn't know what to do to bring him back to us.  
What had happened when he was taken prisoner in Woodbury? Did it have something to do with that? Or was it me? Something I had done? I know sometimes that he thought I was just an annoying brat and I know we had argued a lot. Still, we'd been getting on better before he went with the others to take the Governor down. With the help of some of his own citizens because they were sickened by his abuses of power. Of course, he'd kept them in control for so long by hiring Randal's people – the same scumbags who had attacked me and Maggie in the woods before Daryl saved us.

Rick and the others who had gone with him found out that Woodbury had been destroyed by the Governor's followers after they killed him -set on fire out of spite – leaving most of was unliveable. There was talk of possible rebuilding, clearing out the Walkers who'd overun the town now the blockades had been destroyed but this was for the future and maybe moving in. As well as this, some of the doctors from Woodbury – experts from the Atlanta medical facility actually, who thought that there might be a hope of a vaccine from the disgusting virus in Carol's blood. Apparently, she was different from the rest of us but they told us without volunteers willing to risk their lives to test it, coming up with it was unlikely. Maggie told me about how the Governor had used prisoners – in the end – not even prisoners but anyone who came to Woodbury looking for shelter – in these cruel experiments. And the results had been horrific – the latest was one victim who didn't suffer brain death as his body rotted and he turned. Imagine feeling the agony as your body slowly rots because you should be dead while you are aware of it – wouldn't you just beg for death? My sister said that Daryl had put the poor guy out of his misery.  
I shuddered. Maybe there was chance of a vaccine or even a cure but the price was too high. Because was there anyone willing to pay for it even if it saved what was left of humanity?  
Who was that selfless? That altruistic?

Right then our group had just wanted to return home to the comfort and the familiarity of the home we'd made for ourselves. The safety behind the prison walls.  
But we should have taken precious time to look back over our shoulder before we left in such a hurry, revelling in our triumph.

We should have been more careful, not so drunk on victory when we left the smoking ruins of that town. Fighting off the walkers who'd finally been allowed to invade its sanctuary. I imagined herds of them descending on the town after my sister and the others left - like the one had on the farm and I shivered when I remembered all the people I had loved who I'd lost there.  
How did they know where to go? Some kind of telepathy from one herd to another, like a cheesy TV commercial: 'Fresh meat here! Come get your free daily serving of live, fresh meat!' Despite myself, I giggled almost hysterically at this although it wasn't funny at all.  
It was tragic and sick. 

There'd been a vote – people had the choice to come join the prison community or form their own group and go elsewhere. Many of the people who'd survived being prisoners of the Governor decided to come and live with us at the prison but Rick still insisted being careful – they would be checked very carefully first. Possibly placed in quarantine. Anyway, we could only take on a limited number.  
Most of the original citizens – especially the families and other groups who had formed decided to strike out on their own.  
I saw Merle hulking nearby, for once his eyes weren't on me but following his brother anxiously as Daryl stalked off with his shoulders slumped. Head down, crossbow pointing down towards the ground. Whatever I thought about him, I had to admit that he genuinely cared about his brother and I knew he was worried about Daryl's apparent regression. Back to what he was like when he first joined the group. Like he was now - snarling, almost inarticulate, flinching whenever anyone came near him. I couldn't help wondering if it was all something the Governor had done to him and nothing to do with me. After all, I'd seen what he'd done to Carol when I helped out in the Infirmary and wasn't naïve enough to believe that he left Daryl alone. I shuddered when I'd heard about the things he'd done from the survivers - even to teenagers younger than me.  
Merle noticed me watching him watching Daryl and gave me a curious glance. For once he didn't lick his lips lecherously or leer at me. Just shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture of defeat with his hands. I felt my lips arrange themselves in a similar sheepish grin like his but I stopped it immediately and turned away when I realised. Since when would I ever smile at my sleazy boyfriend's brother who was always looked like he wanted to eat me up with his eyes?

Later on, we had our bi-weekly meeting and surprise, surprise, Merle was there, like he was representing the Dixons because his brother was absent. As usual. I know that Carol, like me were afraid that he would allow Merle to persuade him to leave us like he always wanted. Daryl all to himself. I saw my sister and Glen bristle at his presence but they said nothing and it looked like other people had begun to tolerate him at least, if not forgive him. Maybe because the older Dixon was trying to fit into the group, not be so obnoxious before. He was even listening to the proceedings of the meeting attentively like he actually cared or probably he was just putting on an act, I thought to myself cynically.

The ex-Woodbury citizens, still in quarantine and still under observation were discussed among other important, pressing issues.  
Sentry and perimeter fence duty rotas were organised.  
Food and other supplies were inventoried and runs planned.

But where was Daryl? Whenever I 'd gone to his cell he'd turned his back on me, ordered me brusquely to leave him alone. Curled into foetal position under his blanket, wouldn't let me touch him. Wouldn't let me comfort him.  
It broke my heart to see him look so untypically vulnerable. I wanted to shake him, scream in his face. Get a reaction from him at least.

 

What could I do when he wouldn't even look at me?

I missed his warm arms round me at night, making me feel safe.

These days he disappeared straight after breakfast, picked at it and didn't come back until the after nightfall and nobody knew what he was doing. Hunting probably but he never brought back any food for the group. Anyway, apparently he wasn't even eating himself whatever he was doing because his old jacket with the angel wings on the back was hanging off him, just like his trousers. He'd also lost the trademark energetic bounce in his stride – seemed to be moving slower, his footsteps heavier as he dragged himself along like he was struggling against a hurricane.

 

ii.

Beth

It was dawn when they attacked, most people were already up and I heard Rick yell curses at himself for not being prepared. But it wasn't his fault, none of us were. We hadn't even considered the possibility. 

I grabbed my gun, he'd taught me how to shoot it when I saw him stumbling towards the fence. Was he drunk or hung-over? He looked like it because although he had his crossbow with him but it was like he was dazed or something. He was dragging it so low that its end was almost trailing along the ground. Didn't even lift it up to aim at the enemy from Woodbury, the remnants of Randal's friends I guessed, the private army the Governor had raised to protect him. They wanted revenge, kill us and take the prison for themselves most likely.  
And do other things.I shivered, remembering lying trussed up on the forest floor that day with my sister.

Then it hit me, for whatever reason, Daryl wanted to die.  
'What's wrong with you!' I screamed at him but he didn't look up, didn't respond. 'Shoot him, Daryl!' I yelled at the top of my lungs. But he still didn't hear me.  
'No!' I screamed when I saw one the heavy thugs sneer and raise their gun directly at his chest.. Luckily he was the only one near us and I hoped that meant our group had killed most of them. Probably.  
The screams and yells and gunfire I heard going on around me faded as without thinking I started to react. Ran over to him and got in front of him. I wasn't even thinking – it was just pure instinct. However, maybe I was proud to be able to protect him for once like he'd protected me – for once I wasn't an annoying burden to him. 

iii

Daryl

I could feel the bastard's dick against my naked backside as his fingers tracing my old scars. I tried to control my panicky breathing while he was already panting, getting excited. His hard dick pressig urgently against me making his arousal very clear.  
'I was going to let you watch....While I re-enact Daryl's childhood with his Daddy.'

I shook my head, tried to clear it. Get the feel of him off me because something was going on, something important – some life and death situation. I should feel something – be doing something but I couldn't I remember what it was. Of course I realised - although dimly- that we were being attacked, heard the noises going on around me but they were muffled, like I was walking underwater. 

Maybe. But we'll have lots of fun together first ….- Where did you get all those terrible scars on your back?' 'Was Daddy a little too handy with his belt?' 

'Tell me, did your Daddy fuck you too?

'He did, didn't he?'

My feet shuffled along because I couldn't run, even walking felt like I was wading through treacle. Every step was a momentous effort, an ordeal. 

'Bet ya can suck cock really well, can't ya? Daddy taught ya good, didn't he?'  
'Can't wait to try ya out.'  
I shuddered. Someone was shouting at me urgently from behind, they called my name but I couldn't understand what they were saying. They could have been spouting Greek for all I knew.

And I didn't care. Turned to face the grinning bastard at the fence. Was thinking that I should lift my crossbow – he was aiming his gun at me but my arm wouldn't move.

Then I felt a small body collide into me, get right in front of me. The heavily-set what looked like a mean hell's angel shot his gun and I felt myself being pushed to the ground.

It was Beth on top of me! Not thinking – suddenly galvanised into fighting for survival by her action, I went into fighting mode. Pushed her off me roughly, her cry of pain pierced me like a knife. But I had no time to apologise or see how badly she was hurt. Luckily the asshole looked surprised – he hadn't expected her to jump in front of me and I used his delay to my advantage. Quickly, I lifted up my crossbow and shot the bastard in the chest before he could react. He fell heavily like a sack of potatoes. He was the only one in our immediate area but I could see the Walkers that they'd released – they were pressing against our fences but they didn't look too many.  
One of the Governor's favourite strategies – using the dead against the living. Bastards had learnt well from their master.

First I had to find us cover, check her over and then get back out there, defend the prison.  
I picked her up as gently as I could, even so she gave a little whimper of pain.  
'Sorry 'bout before. Ssh...baby. I've got ya, I've got ya.' Even so I could see her looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes.Looked like she was trying to speak. Curled one hand round my arm.  
'Don't speak. I'm takin' ya to ya Daddy now, OK?'  
She nodded weakly but I could already see she was passing out – only from the pain, I hoped. She didn't appear to be bleeding to badly, I guessed that meant the bullet hadn't hit any major arteries. She'd been hit in the chest, a small blood circle of blood was spreading over her white blouse.  
Where had she been hit? I couldn't tell. No time to examine her – I just had to get her to her father.  
I knew I should be fighting, helping Rick and the others.  
I kissed her forehead – it felt cold and clammy and her breathing was getting faster and shallower.Definitely not good signs.  
'Don't leave me now, baby. Sorry I've been a moody bastard...' I tried to explain, hoping that she could hear me. But looking down at her to assess her injury as I ran as fast as I could to get her to her father in the Infirmary, I had to admit to myself that it didn't look good.  
I burst through the infirmary calling to him.  
'Herschel! Get in here! Beth's been shot!' I yelled.  
Herschel and Johnny came running out. 'What happened?' He was frantic, already ripping off her blouse and I kept thinking maybe someone else should do that.  
Trouble was, there was no one else.  
'Just one bullet. Can ya save her?' I gasped, ignoring his question because I had to get back out there and help Rick and the others.  
'I...I don't know.' The old man's face was going chalky white and his hands were shaking. I hated the thought of telling him that she'd taken the bullet for me when it should have been the other way round. How brave she'd been. He'd blame me for sure, like everyone else. I would tell him but not now because I had to get back out there and help save the prison.  
'I've gotta go, help fight them off but I'll come back when it's over to see how she is.' I grabbed his arm before I turned to go. 'Is she gonna make it?'  
He released himself from my grip gently. 'I hope so,son. I hope so.'  
I left them to it.


	43. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Revised from 'Future Plans' ) – I also changed the title. Please read again. I didn't have much time to check it before I posted it – just wanted to get it out there!
> 
> Is Beth going to pull through and will the prison group successfully defend themselves – they don't know the enemy's numbers or will somebody else be injuried or even die? 
> 
> Meanwhile, some secrets are revealed, some quite shocking! Others are kept hidden.
> 
> If Beth doesn't make it, how will Daryl and the others react? He's already not himself – the delayed effects of what happened to him in Woodbury are making themselves felt now but he won't let anyone help him. Will the group, especially Herschel and Maggie blame him for Beth putting herself in danger for him? He could have kept silent about it – Beth probably won't say anything but we know he won't hide the truth.
> 
> I don't have a science background so I hope that the medical details are realistic.
> 
> And what's Merle up to? Has he really changed or is he just waiting to betray the group and whisk Daryl away with him so that they will finally be alone like he wants?

i.  
Daryl

I left her there – hoping she'd be OK but I had to forget about her. Focus on fighting the enemy instead. We drove them away – eventually - it turned out there were only about twenty of the bastards – I shot two of them trying to open the inner perimeter fence with bolt-cutters. Assholes never knew what hit them when I dispatched them rapidly, one after the other. No doubt planning to send in the Walkers into our courtyard, they'd already released shortly before the attack. Using the dead against the living was one of the Governor's favourite tactics as well as using the living against the living.   
I saw my brother Merle fighting and I smiled inside to see that he'd made his choice. To stay with the group.  
To stay with me.   
I heard Glen and Maggie shouting for back-up and I rushed over to help.   
'Don't let them in!' Rick was yelling.  
Dimly I saw they had a tank and it was rolling towards the front gates. It would break through them soon. So, when I spotted Carl, I called him over. He even had a gun and was shooting – his Dad had told him that hehe had to grow up and fight with the adults. He'd been doing it since the Apocalypse happened in fact.  
'Where's the key?' I pointed towards the tank threatening to break through but luckily it was slow.  
His eyes widened in shock. 'I'll...I'll go and get the spare.' He rushed off.  
Came back 5 minutes later – I motioned him to get under cover. He was a good kid.  
'Cover me.' I commanded him and he nodded. Rick treated him like an adult and I felt sorry for the boy because he'd had no childhood but it couldn't be helped if he wanted to survive.  
If we all wanted to survive. He had to pull his weight for the group.  
The world had changed. Things weren't like they were before. The rules had also changed.  
He'd told me that he blamed himself for Dale – because he hadn't killed the walker when he saw him but then the boy had gone into overkill as a result. Before I had seen Shane looking at him like he thought he was missing something, probably thought he was weak but I knew he wasn't.  
Now, I had to rely on him – no choice to trust him. I did.  
Had no choice because we were a team. Before this I'd never been in one before.  
I ran up, opened the gate and locked it again as quickly as I could. Trying to not get shot in the process, staying out of the way of the tank's guns. But apprently, they weren't working. Luckily. Then I limbed on top, with my dagger opened it up as it was moving. Good job I had a good sense of balance.  
'Hey assholes.' I sneered down – seeing two of the Governor's men, his hired mercenaries who only had time to look up at me in shock before I used my crossbow on them. Reached down and pulled out my bolts – one from one man's neck, the other from his eye. 'Ya shouldn't have come here.' I had told them, taking in their startled looks before I shot them at point blank range. They didn't even have time to draw their guns.  
Behind me the heavy aiming at me , one I vaguely recognised from Woodbury, fell down and I heard Carl whoop. Good boy. I thought as I jumped down the tank's ladder.

In the end, we won with minimum injuries – even the novices who had never fired a weapon before had imporoved their fighting skills. After all, we had more to lose, we were fighting for our home which we had made safe after we had cleared out the walkers ourselves. I hadn't been worried about Merle – knew he could take care of himself.  
In the end, we won – we didn't know how many of them there were exactly but we had a rough idea of how many men the Governor had had. Randal's group combined with his own loyal men. I hoped that there weren't more who had joined the pack after the fall of Woodbury. Glen had been shot high in the shoulder but he'd be OK.

Straight after, I rushed to the infirmary, not even taking time to wash up.  
Found Herschel smiling and Beth resting.  
'Is it over? Nobody seriously hurt? You OK?' He asked me, looking over me anxiously as soon as he saw me.  
I smiled despite my urgency to ask him about Beth. 'It's over. Everybody's fine except for a few scrapes and bruises. They're bringing Glen in with a bullet to the shoulder. Some others got some bruises and scrapes.'  
The vet visibly sighed with relief and I could see the tension visibly drain from his body.  
'What about her?' I nodded my head to my girlfriend, barely stopping to take breath. But I guessed she would be OK – I could see her chest sinking and rising.  
'I took the bullet out, no problem. A milimeter below and it would have pierced her lung. Looked worse than it was.'' He smiled at me as I slumped with relief in a chair. 'She's my lucky girl.'  
'She got in front of me, Herschel. Took the fuckin' bullet meant for me.' I just wanted to clear the air about what really happened. Let him know why she'd been hurt and that I'd failed to protect her like I promised because I'd lost it for a second. Get things straight between us, man to man.

Shoulda been ya that died, ya worthless piece of shit.  
I shook my head because the bastard always seemed to be in it lately since I came back from Woodbury that second time after facing the Governor and finally killing him.  
Get out of my head, you sick fuck.  
But Herschel didn't seem angry at me for failing to keep her safe or that surprised. No doubt he was just relieved that she would be OK. If I was him and Beth my daughter, I would have laid me out on the ground by now.  
'That's my girl.' He stroked long strands of her blond hair proudly. 'Tougher than she looks.'  
'Ya ain't...' I began in surprise but he interrupted me.  
He smiled at me. 'Doesn't matter. She's a brave girl.'  
'But it should'a been me!' I persisted, amazed at how calmly he was taking it.  
'Don't worry 'bout it, son.' He said levelly. How couldn't he blame me?  
'Why ain't she awake?'  
'I jus' gave her a sedative. She needs her rest to heal and it'll make her sleep 'til mornin'.'  
He paused. 'Don't worry, I said she's going to be OK, Daryl, son.'  
Something in my face must have worried him because he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Why was he being so understanding when she'd nearly died to save me? I didn't deserve him talking to me like that when he should be yelling at me. At least.  
Suddenly, his voice became louder in my head, crooning to me like he was right there beside me just as if hadn't fucking killed him when I was twelve. When he'd been mostly silent before I left to go after the Governor.  
What's wrong, son? Daddy ain't gonna hurt ya.  
All fathers and sons do this, jus' no-one talks about it. It's OK. It's OK, boy. It's only natural. Just relax and you'll like it, I promise.  
I shrugged Herschel's hand off me then because nowadays, I couldn't bear anyone touching me.  
Was he expecting me to take her hand? I couldn't do that. Skin to skin? I shuddered at the thought and he looked at me in concern as he frowned and backed off immediately with an apology. I shrugged to let him know it was OK.  
'Ya know, she told me that you were going to get married? Thinking about having a family together?'  
I stared at him because this was the first time I'd heard about this. In fact, we'd never discussed the future much, concentrating too much on the present. She was only 17. WTF?  
I said nothing but later I would make it clear to both of them exactly how things were because I'd decided long ago never to have kids, even though I liked them, if there was a risk of passing my father's sickness onto them.  
I was afraid of what I would do to them – especially if it was a girl. Beat them, do worse, maybe even kill them in a fit of rage? I just couldn't take the risk.  
Besides, if they hadn't noticed, I wasn't the suitable person to bring up a kid. I was moody and impatient. Not exactly very caring either.

ii.

Daryl

It was Glen who rushed into my cell the next day. Shaking me without warning, causing me to lash out automatically. I almost hit his injuried shoulder that was now covered by a bandage.  
'Sorry...was sleepin'...' I growled. I glanced at the battery alarm clock – 4.39 am. Naturally, I still half asleep, Hadn't slept well either because I'd been plagued by nightmares about the past.  
'Jesus! It's Beth!'  
I sat up straightaway when he mentioned her.  
'What? Is she OK?'  
His eyes were frantic and it didn't look good as he didn't answer. 'Herschel says for you to come to the Infirmary straightaway. She's fitting or something!'  
'What!' That got my attention and finally woke me up as I rolled out of bed at that. Started pulling on my clothes over my vest and boxers. I always slept light in bed unless it was really freezing which was rare in Georgia, even in winter.  
'Tell him I'm comin'.'  
He nodded and rushed out, no doubt to go back to the Infirmary.

….

When I finally got there, I heard the sounds of raised voices. I rounded the corner and burst into the infirmary room in the middle of a heated argument.  
'Why didn't you tell me?' Herschel was yelling at Maggie. Herschel was shouting? I'd never heard him raise his voice, particularly never to his daughters.  
Maggie looked stunned, her face was red and tears were running down her face. Crying silently, looking back at her father with her lips trembling Glen looked pale and shocked as he glanced at me, seemed like he was the only one who had heard me come in. He had his arm around Maggie and Rick was also there, hands raised between them. Johnnie was in the corner, head in his hands. Rick was trying to calm down the situation because Maggie's tears seemed to be having no effect on Herschel. 'Now, I know we're all upset but let's try to calm down...'  
Tell him what? What the hell were they talking about?  
'I would have treated her differently if I'd known! She'd still be alive!'  
'That's not fair! You don't know that!' Glen yelled back. 'It's not her fault!'  
Then I forgot about them, looked over to Beth.Whatever they were talking about didn't matter.  
Beth did. So I looked over at her but didn't the tell-tale sign of her chest moving up or down. But I did see the blood trickling out of one corner of her mouth combined with her appearance. Because she was lying there as still as death.  
'What?' I rushed over to her, put my ear to her chest. Couldn't hear her heart. Felt her pulse, couldn't feel it but nevertheless, her skin was still warm. 'No...No!' I heard myself cry out loud.  
The others finally noticed that I was there.  
Herschel's face fell when he saw me.  
'She ain't breathin'!'  
'I'm sorry son, she's gone. It was the sedative I gave her...with her heart the way it was... weakened by the...the....We couldn't get it to start again.' Johnnie nodded sadly to confirm his words with his own. 'The drug had an adverse effect on her heartbeat which was already erratic...'  
'What? What the fuck are ya talkin' 'bout? Speak fuc'kin' English, man.' I rudely interrupted him because I couldn't understand what he was saying. So I confronted her father. 'Ya told me that she was going to be OK!' Now it was my turn to yell accusingly as I dropped Beth's hand and took a threatening step towards him.  
Rick got in between us , looked like he was going to put his hands on my shoulders to steady me but thought better of it while Herschel turned away and buried his head in his hands.  
So I turned on Maggie and Glen instead.  
'What didn't ya tell him?' I demanded. Maggie glanced at Herschel who turned round to face us then and nodded.  
'Tell him.' He said. 'He's practically her husband, after all.'  
Now it was their turn to stare at me in shock.  
What the fuck? I thought to myself again but decided that now was not the right time to argue about petty details. Besides, I didn't want to add to their grief and if this lie made her father feel better, I'd let it lie.  
'Beth was bulimic.' She said simply and the tears ran down her cheeks silently as Glen tightened his arm around her and put his cheek against hers. I stared at her in shock.  
'What?' I couldn't believe that I hadn't known. True – I knew about her botched suicide attempt, knew that she appeared fragile at times but I'd never have thought that.  
' You didn't know?' She looked at me incredously as wiped her eyes with her hand. Then she faced her father again. 'But I thought she'd got better, Daddy! I really did. I thought she'd stopped!' She appealed to him.'Besides, Daryl was making her happier than she'd ever been with Jimmy.' She looked at me then in sympathy and it was true she'd learnt not to tar me with the same brush as my brother. She'd warmed to me, especially after we'd been the ones to go off and find milk for Judith.  
Finally accepted me as being good enough for her little sister.  
Pity that like her father, she didn't know the truth I thought bitterly to myself. I had to admit that looking back that all we did was fight mostly – that was when we weren't in bed and despite the circumstances, I couldn't stop myself inwardly grinning at those memories. And still I said nothing to tear down their illusions because I had always known that she wasn't the one for me. Not really – too young for a start. It didn't mean that I hadn't cared about her though. Then the grief and the guilt hit me then in full force and I pushed it down, away from me. I would deal with it later when I was alone.  
'So, you should still have told me.' Her father stubbornly insisted quietly. 'Why didn't you?'  
'She wouldn't let me. She was worried that you would be disappointed worried about her all the time. We said that you had enough to deal with...'  
'Of course I wouldn't have been and of course I would have been!' He countered, his voice rising now. He was shaking and there were tears in his voice.  
He looked at me then. 'Ya sure you did see her binging and making herself sick after meals?'  
'No. She didn't eat much but then she never did. She must have stopped like Maggie said.'  
Hie looked at me in suspicion then, yet he didn't bring up the reason why she'd got shot in the first place. But I did. 'That ain't all. Ya know, why she was shot? She ….'  
'Maybe she always had a death wish.' He cut me off abruptly, staring at me meaningfullye as he referred to the time when she'd been so deeply depressed after the death of her family that she'd slit her own wrists. Also, at the same time, letting me know by his words that he didn't blame me for her death. But how couldn't he? It was my fault that his daughter had died. If I'd been concentrating instead of shambling around in a daze – just like the walkers we killed nearly every day, if I'd protected her like I should have done - she'd still be alive. Why didn't he order me to leave the room, why hadn't he told Rick and the others? That's why I couldn't let this go, they should know why she'd died that she'd been willing to sacrifice herself to save me. Especially when I wasn't worth it. But he shook his head at me violently, telling me that my own revelation would only make things worse for everybody. He must have told Johnnie to keep quiet too.  
So I shut up. I'd told him and I was still surprised that he didn't blame me.  
Because I'd failed her, in effect, I'd killed her as surely as if I had taken that gun from the enemy myself and shot her with it.

iii.

Rick

I found him at the top of other tower not occupied by Glen and Maggie. Quietly smoking, looking out at the starry sky. Alone, like he always was these days since he'd lost his shy sociability from before. I sensed that something bad had happened to him at Woodbury and Herschel thought the same but neither Daryl or Carol - if she knew, were talking about it. The vet had also admitted that he was no expert on psychology but had told us that unless Daryl decided to open up, we couldn't help him. We couldn't force him to accept our help and he showed no signs of wanting to talk. Acutally the opposite seemed to be true because now he was pulling away from the group and the people who cared about him more and more each day. I sighed. 

Still, I saw Carol follow him with her eyes worriedly but still he kept away from her. I had to admit that I even saw Merle looking at him in the same way. But Daryl clearly wanted to be left alone and everyone respected his wishes.

I called out to let him know I was there, he was so jumpy these days, just like he'd been when he first joined the group.  
'Hey, Daryl.'  
He spun round immediately. 'What ya want?' He greeted me rudely without any preamble. No cheeky grin either like before.  
'Are ya OK?' I decided to just come out with it. I knew that Maggie, Herschel and Glen in particular were furious with him because he'd never come to the funeral. 'You know you missed the funeral?'  
I trod carefully, I wanted to make sure that I didn't sound like I was judging him or accusing him.  
He rolled his eyes and didn't answer but at least he didn't order me to leave. I took this as encouragement and came in and sat down on the other chair but it was quite far away from him but I didn't move closer because it could be dangerous. The way he was since we left Woodbury, you had to treat him like a skittish animal that would bolt if you moved too quickly.  
So I looked everywhere else in the round room rather than look at him.  
'Ya got one for me?' I had rarely smoked because Lori would have a pink fit when she was alive but what with losing Beth and the strain of recent events, now I wanted one more than anything.  
He stared at me then but I couldn't read his expression. Shrugged and reached over to hand me one, even holding out his light for me.  
We sat there in companiable silence, him smoking out of the open window and me using an old ashtray that was conveniently on the table, him not looking at me while I looked elsewhere rather than look at him. Because everytime I did, a lump would come into my throat and my heart would start thundering in my chest.  
I dared to break the silence. 'It wasn't ya fault, ya know. Beth.'  
He shook his head without looking at me. 'Was. Ya don't know the full story...should'a been me...'  
I didn't let him finish, wouldn't allow him to wallow in guilt as well as grief. 'It doesn't matter. What matters is that you loved each other and she knew this before she died.'  
'Yeah. Bet Herschel don't see it that way. None of ya understand! It was my fault! I should have protected her!' His voice began to rise in rage – but I had a feeling it was directed at himself and I took a risk by moving my chair nearer to him. He didn't react apart from turn round to glance back at me. After a brief silence, I pushed all my chances to lay my hand on his shoulder. I felt him flinch slightly but he didn't tell me to get off him or move away so I left it where it was. Still, he didn't say anything or look at me though, just kept staring out of the window.Then again, I knew that I was one of the people he trusted most in the group.  
But at least addressing the elephant in the room directly had eased some of the tension out of the room. I could feel it physically draining out of his body under my hand.  
'Sides, think of all the lives ya saved by killin' the Governor.'  
He sighed then, relaxing more into my touch. Almost leaning into me and I took this as encouragement as I put a tentative arm around him, knowing that again, I was taking a big risk. He was liable to lash out at me if I made the wrong move.  
But he let me, even eased into me as I whispered to him, 'What happened to Beth ain't ya fault. She was already sick.'  
He replied with his voice cracking slightly, still staring out of the window, blowing smoke circles, 'I'm jus' sick of losin' people, is all. We won but what we lost? Always a fuckin' price to pay.' He muttered the last phrase darkly almost to himself.  
We sat in companiable silence like that, not saying anything, just smoking quietly together when we heard heavy footsteps pounding on the steps up the tower and I could feel him tense up again under my arm. However, before we could move, Merle burst in. Took in the scene before him as he snarled, his eyes full of rage directed at me. Daryl shook himself loose then in embarassment but he hadn't reacted quickly enough and Merle had seen me with my arm around him.  
'Get the fuck off him, pervert. I told ya to leave him the fuck alone.'  
'Merle...' Daryl got up with a warning growl in his voice, put out a restraining hand towards his older brother but he ignored this, didn't look at him as he eyeballed me.  
'Fuck off.' Daryl finally snarled at his brother. 'How many fuckin' times do I need to tell ya that I don't need ya protectin' me? Especially not from Rick.' Daryl looked me up and down almost contemptously as if I could never be a threat to him.'Can take care of myself.'  
'Thanks.' I muttered to Daryl sarcastically, wondering if I should take this as an insult or a compliment as I also stood up to confront Merle. Decided to keep the tone of my voice as reasonable as possible.  
'What do ya think's goin' on, Merle? We're just havin' a smoke, been talkin' actually- not that it's any of ya business.'  
Merle took a step towards me and I automatically reached for my gun in its halter but Daryl got in between us. Shoved his brother back – far away from us hard. 'What the fuck ya doin', Merle? He's right – it ain't none of ya business and we were jus' smokin'!'  
Merle smirked like he didn't believe that and quickly closed the distance between him and his younger brother. Grabbed Daryl round the throat next and slammed him violently against the wall. 'Don't lie to me, little Darlena.' He hissed at him while I reached for my gun to train it on him.  
I needn't have worried because Daryl could always take care of himself. Wasn't some helpless weakling like his big brother treated him sometimes. I secretly cheered when I saw the younger Dixon stop struggling, drew back one fist and sucker his big brother in the gut. Merle bent over – even looked like he had tears of pain in his eyes. 'Ya gonna pay for that later, baby brother.'  
'Fuck you.' Daryl sneered at him uncompromisingly. 'In future, leave me the fuck alone, will ya, bro!' He put a nasty emphasis on the last word in this parting shot that he fired at him before he stormed out. Without looking at either of us before he raced quickly down the stairs.  
I left to follow him while training my gun on his brother who was still clutching himself and grunting in pain. Merle could be unpredictable, especially when he thought someone was threatening his 'baby brother'.  
'Ya heard what he said, Merle. I suggest ya do what he says and don't cause any more trouble if ya want to stay with us. 'Cos if ya keep rilin' him up, he won't want ya here and your brother's the only reason I let ya stay. For Daryl – him nearly losin' ya an' all. But any more trouble like this and ya out - no matter what he says. Are we clear?'  
We simultaneously turned towards the open door as we heard a bang coming from the ground floor, no doubt as Daryl, pissed, stormed out of the tower.  
I could have shot his brother then in truth because I had been getting somewhere with Daryl, he was opening up to me when we were so rudely interrupted but I didn't say any of this to Merle. But I sighed in frustration because I knew we were back to square one with the hunter. I didn't think Merle could help him either with his guilt and grief over Beth – he was so blunt and insensitive. But was there more to it? We knew how the Governor and his men had treated their prisoners – if something had happened, Daryl or Carol had, never mentioned it. And she'd been in a pretty bad state herself when she came back. Even so, he'd hadn't just pulled away from most people, he'd also kept his distance from her when they'd been so close before. Even from Beth before she died, the girl he'd been practically engaged to, if you listened to her father. 

But to my astonishment, the anger disappeared slowly from Merle's eyes as he straightened up.  
'Crystal.' He replied sullenly but at least he had backed down. Something I could never have imagined witnessing. 'Jus' got a little worked up, is all. Forget he's a grown man sometimes.' More unbelievably, he was saying sorry in what I knew passed for a Dixon apology.  
I accepted this, even sympathised a little because I knew the reason why Merle was so overprotective towards his younger brother. Had heard about the things their father had done to Daryl – knew about their family background. But still I had to keep the peace. Make sure the group was safe. The group was more important than any of us – even more than Beth, baby daughter, my son, Daryl or me. 

The group and its survival was my priority.


	44. Sorrow

Beth's dead and the prison community is still reeling from their loss. Is Daryl ever going to recover or can his brother help him?

i.  
Daryl

He found me of course – it took a Dixon to track down another Dixon and I scowled at him while I kicked the dust with my boot. I was still fuming with him and he was the last person in the world except maybe for Carol that I wanted to see.  
'What the fuck ya want?' I snarled at him. 'Ain't ya done enough!' After what happened in the tower with Rick, embarrassing the living shit out of me by treating me just like a little kid. I didn't need him protecting me, I could take care of myself hadn't changed since then. I didn't want to see him now that my relief that he hadn't died had faded but then I didn't want to see anyone these days, especially not Carol.  
Remembering that she'd been forced to watch me and the Governor together, even though I'd killed the sick bastard. I repressed a shudder.  
'I came to find ya, baby brother. People talkin'.'  
'Since when did ya care about them? Ya fuckin' hate these people!'  
I turned around and glared at him but he didn't answer.  
'Are ya fuckin' eatin', Darlena? Even sleepin'?' His eyes were full of concern, forehead furrowed in worry and I hated it. Because I didn't deserve any care or concern.  
'What do ya care? She died 'cos of you. Should have been ya!'  
I ran at him and shoved him away. Wanted him to leave. But he laughed instead of getting hurt.  
'What ya sayin'? Ugh! Ya fuckin' stink, bro. Not washin' neither, huh?'  
'It's ya fault she died! For me!'  
'What shit ya been takin'?' Ya know ya sound crazy?'  
'She's dead – shoulda been me. Or you.'  
'What the fuck ya talkin' 'bout, Darlena? I mean – she was a sweet girl an' all...'  
'She died for me!'  
'What the hell ya sayin'?' My stupid dumbass brother still didn't get it.  
'She got in front of me and took the bullet instead, Merle!'  
'What did he do to you?' He asked very softly, dangerously. Ignoring what I'd said. Suddenly changing the topic suddenly and I knew it was just to fuck with me.  
'What?' I turned round to stare at him in surprise, mouth wide open. Felt myself starting to tremble when he mentioned the Governor because now I could feel him pressing himself with his hardness against me, his fingers tracing the scars on my back. I could hear him whispering in my ear. I felt his touch and heard his voice every day.  
'Ya know who I'm talkin' about. Why else are ya in the state ya in?' He kept pushing me relentlessy.  
'Because my girlfriend fuckin' died, dumbass! To protect me because I was bein' a fuckin' idiot - wasn't concentratin'. Should have been me protectin' her!' I didn't tell him about the heavy black fog that seemed me from all sides since we got back to Woodbury, making it hard to think, let alone move. Made me feel sluggish, slow when I went and faced the last of the Governor's men at the fence. Hadn't even had the energy to raise my crossbow.  
Maybe I even wanted to die, let all this end.  
He shrugged. 'I'm sorry Beth died, she was just a beautiful kid but come on, now, boy. Ya didn't really love her.'  
'Fuck you! I did! And gettin' ya sorry ass back for her wasn't worth it! Ya know someone always has to pay!'  
He stared at me in surpise, understanding finally dawning on his face because I hadn't explained it very well. 'Ya really believe in all Mama's shit? 'Ya think it was me who was meant to die instead Beth?' He whistled and twirled his finger at the side of his head. 'Ya fuckin' crazy, Daryl, boy...Sides, ya don't even know what love is. No, I don't believe ya. Was it jus' the sex? Was it good? 'Cos I know she didn't make ya happy.'  
'Yeah...she did. Ya don't know shit about us!' But just like always, he manipulated me, trying to make me believe things that weren't true.  
He sniggered and I wanted to punch him to wipe his smug grin right off his face! How dare he talk about Beth like that now that she was gone! Instead, I only yelled angrily back at him. 'Stop fuckin' with me, Merle!' I ordered him.  
'She weren't good enough for ya, boy. Too young, too weak. Too sheltered – could never understand you.' He took no notice. 'Even that Carol broad would have been better for ya than that little girl. At least she understood. But now that ship has sailed 'cos she's with Milton now. Hell, maybe ya should have let Rick carry on fuckin' ya like he was about to in the tower, ya little fag.'  
'Fuck you! He wasn't! And I fucked him if ya must know and I ain't fuckin' gay!' I countered and smirked at him because that was something he didn't know about my drunken little experiment with the ex-cop. I knew that he had imagined it going one way – Rick taking advantage of me but I wanted to shock him, after all I'd been with a man before, Rick never, so I took control. Even if the only man had been my own fucking father. It had been his first time but he ignored my remark as he started to chuckle mockingly at me defending myself.  
'How many times did ya break up and get together again with ya sweet little girlfriend jus' 'cos she threw a tantrum over nothin', hey little brother?'  
'That ain't none o' ya business!' While at the same time, I was wondering how the fuck did he know?  
He was grinning at me then. I had forgotten that my older brother always knew anything about me.  
But then his face softened. 'What did the Governor do, little brother? Same thing as the first time?'  
His gentle tone almost undid me and the way his question came at me left field but I wasn't about to talk about that shit. Not with my big brother.  
Not with anybody. I felt my body start to tremble when he mentioned him.  
Carol understood, she had seen but I couldn't even bear to look at her, let alone go and talk to her about it. I knew that she hadn't breathed a word of what she been forced to witness to anyone. Knew I could trust her.  
'Didn't do nothin'. I kept my expression blank and the emotion out of my voice.  
'Don't lie to me.' His tone grew coaxing and I felt the familiar feeling of deja vu – when I'd had another terrible secret before that he tried to get out of me.  
'Seriously, Merle. Ya think he could?' I gave him my most defiant smirk and yet my stupid body was still trembling. And he saw it! He knew!  
'Get out of here, Merle. Leave me alone.' I snapped as I turned my back on him to walk away because if he wasn't going, I was. Didn't get very far though as he leapt at me and pinned me to the ground.  
Immediately released me though when I started to panic and struggle. When he heard the pathetic whimpers coming out of my mouth that I couldn't control and he stared at me with an expression I couldn't identify.  
'I ain't leavin' ya, little brother – not again. Not ever. Not until ya tell me the truth. I saw the way he was lookin' at ya when he made us fight – like ya were the sweetest. most fuckable thing he'd ever seen – jus' like he could eat ya all up with his eyes.'  
I slumped and looked down to the ground. Shrugged because suddenly I didn't have the energy to escape him. Merle knew. He always knew.  
'Did he..?'  
'Tried.Wanted to.' I snapped curtly without looking up. A clear message that I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Wanting this particular conversation to be over. 'Ya fuckin' happy now, bro, now ya know?' I glared at him.  
'Sick rapin' fuck. 'My brother growled, 'Wish I'd been the one to kill him, would have made him hurt a long time before I let him die. Why ya make it so easy for him, baby brother? After what he tried to to do to ya? But Rick the Prick wouldn't let me go with the team even though I'd gone after the bastard by myself. Still didn't trust me....still doesn't...fuckin' Rick the Dick.' He added.  
'Don't talk about him that way. He's a good man.' I snapped at him, feeling the need to defend Rick. After all, nobody could blame him if he still didn't fully trust Merle. I knew that it would take a long time for the group to fully accept him – and some people like Maggie and Glen, would probably never forgive him for what he did.  
'Ooh, protecting ya straight boyfriend? How sweet.'  
'Fuck off, Merle. Ya know it's gonna take time. Ya know what ya did...'  
'I never touched that fuckin' Green bitch.. Why do I get the blame for it?'  
'Merle...' I had to stop this turning into a full-blown argument that would probably lead to us trading blows. He looked at me then, the catch in my voice probably caught his attention.  
'Merle...Worst thing was...he knew ...about him. What he did. They all fuckin' knew.' I hated the quiver that was creeping into my voice.  
'He knew about him?' Even Merle was shocked.  
'Called himself my Daddy. '  
Merle drew back and hissed in disgust while I continued. 'He touched me...and...M... Merle...I …I...' I couldn't finish the sentence, put into words the disgusting pleasure when he'd stuck his fingers inside me, brushing that particular sensitive place. That he'd made me moan and grind back on him which was worse than if he had just fucked me. Like my body belonged to someone else when I hated him! Wanted so badly to kill him! I looked down at the ground, couldn't meet his eyes and hunched my shoulders. I turned away from him even though all I wanted was for him to put his arms around me and just hold me and tell me that none of it was my fault. That I wasn't bad. Or disgusting or that I secretly liked it. That I'd asked for it. Like he had when I told him about Dad. But at the same time I was torn because my body wanted to run away because it didn't want to be touched. Ever again and I couldn't stand anyone touching me since we'd got back. I'd even sent Beth away before she was shot, making me feel even more guilty because I'd treated her badly. I'd neglected her and yet she still tried to save my life. Well, I'd let Rick touch me for some even reason but then we'd been pretty intimate – once. Mainly because his touch was always gentle, and he never shouted or yelled and I knew he'd never hurt me. Not that I wouldn't knock him to the ground if he tried any of that shit with me.  
'Sh...Sh...' My older brother hushed me. Tucked a couple of lank, unwashed strands back behind my ears and suddenly I was dying to take a nice, clean wash in the river. Felt embarrassed suddenly about my lack of personal hygiene – I'd let it go but he didn't seem to care. Didn't say anything anyway. 'It's only natural. Not ya fault – sick fuck knew what he was doin.' Probably did it to loads of prisoners and they all reacted the same as you.'  
I sighed in relief because like he did so often, he knew what I wanted to say. And I couldn't believe I was telling my big brother this shit. Sex and gay rape and everything when he'd been so angry and disgusted about that one, stupid time with Rick. My eyes were burning with hot tears of shame. But I couldn't let them fall – not in front of him. Because Dixons don't cry!  
It didn't matter because he was looking at me with love and understanding in his eyes. His eyes were telling me that he would always love me no matter what.  
Nobody knew what he was like with me when no one else was around.  
'In...in front of C...Carol...' I wasn't trembling now. I was shaking. He stroked my back with his one good hand soothingly.  
'Sh...it don't matter. She'll understand married to a bastard like that all those years.'  
'M...Merle...' I heard myself stammer, knowing that I was sounding just like a scared little kid again and looking up at him pleadingly, could feel my lips trembling and my burning tears about to spill over onto my cheeks. Like I used to when we were boys but back then he'd cuff me instead and tell me to toughen the fuck up. But I couldn't stop myself this time!  
'Come here.' He knew what I wanted as he pulled me slowly towards his chest. 'Ain't none of it ya fault, jus' another sick fuck, is all. And ya stopped him, didn't ya, Daryl? Fuckin' killed the bastard. Just like ya killed him.'  
Because since I came back from Woodbury, the only other person apart from Rick that is that I could stand touching me was my brother.  
My blood. My kin. Feeling that instant indescribable feeling and if I'd lost him...I didn't let myself finish that thought because it was all still too raw.  
He started rocking me back and forth like he knew what I was thinking and when his fingers started moving over my hair, I finally let the tears spill over like the fucking little pussy I was. Crying again – didn't I ever stop? Making his shirt all wet but he didn't seem to care. Breathing in his musky scent.  
'It's over.' He whispered in my ear. 'It's all over now, little Darlena. Ya stopped him.Ya made him pay. Everything's gonna be alright now. I'm sorry ya lost ya sweetheart, boy.'

I just buried my head in his chest and clung tighter to him. Rick could never understand why Merle wanted to kill him, just for putting his arm around me. 

Just for touching me.

'I'm here...Merle's here. I got ya, I'll keep ya safe, baby brother.' He was crooning to me in my ear now. 'Did she ever make ya feel safe like I can? Or was it you always making her feel safe? It goes both ways, don't ya know? Of course, she was very young.'  
I shook my head because he was right. Merle was always right and I started crying again, this time for her. 

When I finished he released me. Started russling around the pots and pans. Suddenly I felt sharp pains in my stomach. I was hungry for the first time after eating barely nothing for days. No, I wasn't hungry – I was ravenous!  
I got the fire going while he grinned at me smugly. 'Feelin' better now, baby Darlena? Now ya cried ya little heart out?' He mocked me. Of course he knew I'd suddenly regained my appetite.  
'Fuck you, I don't cry.' I snarled only half-joking this time. ''Cos don't ya know, dumbass, Dixons don't cry?'  
'Fuck him.' He grinned because it was one of our father's favourite sayings and I went over to wrestle my brother to the ground while the pot of water was heating over the fire ready for our tins of beans. 'Ha haa.' I laughed into his face but he took me by surprise by flipping me over with his greater body weight. He had a bigger build than me – I took after Mama. But I didn't feel the normal feelings of panic like I used to when he did this, even if I did know it was only a game. He was acting like he used to when he was a teenager and I was very young. When we used to play-wrestle each other and sometimes he'd even let me win.  
'Who's on top now, little brother?'  
'Fuck you.' I playfully swiped him.  
He got all serious all of a sudden, held my eyes with his own. They were swirling, electric, looking dark blue in the dusk light. 'Ain't no-one gonna ever gonna love ya like I do, little Darlena. No woman because they can't understand. Not like I can.' He told me, cupping my face in between his hands. 'I love ya so much, I would have died to save ya. To make sure ya safe. Ya know that?'  
I felt my cheeks burn and dropped my gaze.  
'Aw... shut up, Merle.'  
'I mean...ain't no-one can understand. What he was like.'  
'Get the fuck off me. What's wrong with ya, bro? Sound like a pansy homo fag.'  
'And ya ain't?'  
I started to struggle and push him off me as we fell to the ground laughing. But then I stopped, didn't seem right when Beth was dead. 

But inside there was a warmth spreading in my chest. 

I knew it was because I'd got my brother back.

ii.  
Rick

I looked at Carol and Herschel in shared relief when Daryl came to the next meeting when we were discussing what to do with the refugees from Woodbury who were still in quarantine. I was careful who I let into our group – we'd had some nasty surprises before because we'd been too trusting and not suspicious enough. Even if most of the refugees had been tortured at Woodbury, we still had to make sure these people would fit in, would be productive rather than destructive members of our community. We didn't force them to stay in the isolation cells – if they didn't want to undergo the quarantine period, they were free to leave before. In fact, at least two of the former prisoners of the Governor – a middle-aged man and his slightly younger wife who had suffered brutally under his men only stayed a few days after we gave them free medical treatment. Then Maggie and others had blindfolded them and dropped them off far away. Hopefully they would never find us again. We'd asked them not to mention us to anyone but how could we make sure that they didn't? They could easily forget and let slip that there were people living in a prison nearby – safe behind barbed wire fences and concrete walls from the Walkers. But there were still signposts out there if you could find them, directing people to us but I guessed that they were mostly on the highways. I knew that theese were uselessly blocked now by the cars and dead bodies in the mass exodus from Atlanta at the beginning of the epidemic. Well, I hoped they were – we'd taken down the all the the signs we could find or scratched out the name of our prison. 

Daryl was looking better even though he still hung back, close to his big brother. Didn't participate much but he was watching and listening to what was going on. I couldn't identify at first what it was about him that had changed - he had that bounce back in his step and his head was pointing up, looking straight ahead at people. His shoulders were no longer slumped either and he'd changed his clothes and his hair was no longer matted and greasy, he'd washed it. Even though I'd held my nose mentally and struggled not to show it, the stink of his unwashed body had disgusted me in the tower that night.  
Had Merle done this? Something told me he was responsible for his brother looking better, more like he used to be. He'd got back the lost progress that he lost from before. What had Merle said or done to Daryl to effect this change and so rapidly? I'd seen him with Daryl before – away from other people and the way he was with him had surprised me.  
I smiled because while I never liked Merle Dixon and probably never would, I was grateful for what he'd done for Daryl. Carol had always thought that he was a bad influence who harmed his younger brother, maybe he had in the past but it was clear to me that Daryl desperately needed him. His only family left and I trusted him to be able to keep his brother in line. Besides, his military and considerable hunting and fighting skills were added bonuses that we desperately needed to protect ourselves from threats coming from outside. The belated attack by the Governor's men, even after Daryl killed their leader, seemed to prove that. We could no longer afford to be complacent and hide behind our walls, thinking we were safe. Other humans were just as dangerous, if not more so, than the Walkers because they could think. And plan and covet what we had built for themselves literally with our own blood, sweat and tears.  
After the meeting, there was a memorial service for Beth. We'd already buried her body in a grave a few days ago outside the perimeter fence and marked it with a wooden cross. Maggie had put her name and dates on there along with a famous little poem.  
Daryl mumbled a sorry while Herschel nodded, to Beth's family for missing the burial as he gently placed a white flower onto the grave and patted the dug earth there like he was trying to reassure her as he planted it. Like I'd seen him do for Carol when we all thought she was dead. Otherwise, he typically didn't say much. Went back to stand beside his brother who put one arm around him and they stood like that. Both of them with their heads bowed in respect -even Merle. I suppose that part of me had expected to see Daryl cry but I knew he would never do that in public. But I felt a couple of tears spring to my eyes as I wiped them away, saw other people doing the same and I could tell that the dead girl's family were having difficulties hiding their grief. Even though the main time for crying had been at the funeral, everybody's hearts were heavy at the death of such a beautiful young girl on the threshold of adulthood who everybody loved. I just knew that Judith, young as she was, was going to miss her. She'd become like a mother to her.  
I dreaded to think what would have happened to Daryl if Merle had been killed when he went after the Governor by himself. A brave move I couldn't help respecting and I knew that he had done to save Daryl more than us. That he would have died to keep his brother safe.

But maybe he did do it for us as well, to say sorry for Glen and Maggie. I'd like to think so even though I knew that those two would never forgive him. 

But there was always hope in sorrow. You just had to search for it to find it.

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow.  
I am the diamond glints on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning's hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
I am not there. I did not die. 

 

Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905 -2004)


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45 Legacy 

i.

Carol

As the priest – yes we had one in our group, newly acquired but fully qualified, recited Psalm 23:

 

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.  
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.  
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.  
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

At the funeral, my heart tore for the young girl lying in the ground, torn away from us in the prime of her youth even if we'd had our differences. She'd seen me as a possible love rival but I don't know why – Daryl had never shown any hint of liking me more than just friends. None of it mattered now – I was reminded of this by Milton when he tightened his arm around me. My heart felt like it was tearing itself in two when I saw Daryl across the shallow grave. To my surprise, both of the Dixons were mouthing the words of the Psalm along with the priest – I never put them down as religious men. 

Maybe they weren't – but they'd had a religious education at home. Yes – that was it.

I caught Daryl's eye, he grinned ruefully before he turned away to look at the ground. Still no tears from him and he never gave an eulogy although Maggie and Glen looked expectently at him, no doubt waiting for him to give one. However, everybody knew that he didn't like public speaking and just because he wasn't falling apart in public, didn't mean that he didn't feel grief or that he didn't care.  
I knew that he liked to keep his feelings private. To cry in public would be the ultimate sign of weakness for him.  
The rumour was that they'd planned to get married soon but I didn't know how true that was and if so, surely Daryl should have said something about his fiancee even if it was only that he had loved her? I had to consider that the gossip could be true because living past a month, a week or even a day was no longer certain post-Apocalypse. Beth herself was sure proof of that in this new, unforgiving world. Besides - who knew what else Mother Nature had stored up her sleeve for us after she'd let loose the Walker plague? We'd toppled the Governor but what new enemy would we face tomorrow? I shivered with dread and I tried to shrug my pessimistic feelings off as the natural effects of grief ofverBeth's death. Milton felt my tremour and asked me if I was alright and despite it all, I smiled through my tears because when had Ed ever asked me if I was alright? Or did I mind if he did this or did it hurt? Did I want him to stop? When my husband had never asked me how I felt, full stop. Even forbade me to go to my own mother's funeral once and punished me viciously when I did. Milton, on the other hand, always checked with me for permission before he did anything – I thought it was because my history with my ex-husband and the Governor but now I knew it was just him. I loved him for it even if maybe it would get annoying sometime off in the distant future and I would crave spontaneity from him but right now, he was what I needed.  
I was sobbing for Beth by now, even with Milton rubbing my back softly. Other people too- I could even see that Rick had tears in his eyes – his voice was thick with sorrow when he added his piece about what a sweet, beautiful woman she was and so young, so very young.  
The whole time he was talking, I kept thinking that Rick had stolen Daryl's words from right out of his mouth. Even though I knew that this was stupid.  
Merle cautiously said nothing but had the good grace to show respect and bow his head alongside his brother.  
Even Michonne was on the verge of tears too but well hidden when she talked about how well Beth had looked after the baby – been like a mother to her. I sensed that there was more to it than that – even without her telling me – something about Judith losing her mother resonated within her.  
I wondered what her secret was. She was like Daryl in that respect. Tough like him too.   
I knew most of these people well enough by now to read them like an open book – even when they tried to hide from the rest of the world.   
I pushed away the rage and anger – even after the Governor was dead, he'd still managed to hurt us indirectly through his men. His twisted legacy lived on – especially in his former prisoners. I'd heard the screams at night coming from the quarantine area and I knew for sure that none of our people were torturing the poor souls.  
Milton said that I did the same – I knew I did, woke myself up sometimes from the bad dreams or were they memories of the Governor? His knife cutting me, his fist drawn back ready to fly at my face or worst of all – him on top of me, grunting and sweating like a hog. Straining just before the end before he roughly pulled out of me with no ceremony. Hissing in my ear during it all that I was too skinny, ugly and old but telling me that he'd fuck me anyway just because he knew I didn't want it. Besides, he would taunt me, I should be grateful that somebody wanted to – I was such a dried-up, withered old husk.  
I'd lied to Daryl about that – said he hadn't touched me in that way because what good would it have done? Only added to his pain. Besides, the Governor hadn't done anything to me that hadn't been done before – I'd had worse. Ed had been even more brutal and rough sometimes and I could take whatever he decided to dish out. I didn't want anyone's pity – had had enough of it already when they saw how Ed treated me right in front of them.  
A few moments after I came back to myself, the nightmares immediately started to fade – leaving behind only broken, disjointed images and the lingering feelings of fear, shame, helplessness. These would often persist through the day as much as I tried to push them aside. When I woke up, I'd tense up out of long habit – thinking I was back with Ed again who would 'punish' me. Usually by punching me at the top of my thighs or stomach where it didn't show the next day. For waking him up, But then my heart would be put at rest and begin to slow down its mad pounding when I would hear Milton's soothing voice. Feel his gentle touch because he never got angry over nothing.  
No matter how many times a night I disturbed his sleep.   
Philip's legacy lived on in Daryl – in me. I shook my head as I tried to unremember that last day before he killed our captor and I hadn't breathed a word of what had happened to anyone. Is that what Daryl was worried about? Embarrassed? Ed had done so many things to me, humiliated me in so many ingeniously sadistic ways over the years that I never got embarrassed over anything any more. Then the Governor had come along.   
Even though I knew he'd been suffering and grieving, I was still pissed as hell at Daryl for not once visiting me in the Infirmary – those few days after our escape from Woodbury when I'd been recovering. Milton had tended me and from there on – our romance had blossomed. I no longer regretted not being with Daryl – I had realised now that our friendship was always going to be platonic but this didn't mean that we weren't close or that I had stopped caring about him.  
I thought what we had was more fundamental, more profound than a mere sexual relationship.

Or at least we had been close once upon a time,

 

ii.

Daryl 

'What?' I rounded on Rick after the funeral. 'Ya want me to do what?'  
'Talk to the people in quarantine. Some of them were prisoners at Woodbury, just like you.'  
'So?' I mean I felt for those people but I couldn't help them. 'How long we gonna keep them cooped up in there anyway? They won't want to join us if we don't show a bit of trust and let them out soon.'  
'Well, that's why I'm asking you to talk to them. Find out what kind of people they are. You were a prisoner there too, ...ya know what the Governor was like...'  
I shivered despite myself and he noticed. Of course, he did.  
'Look, I feel bad for anyone who was that bastard's prisoner but I can't help them.'  
Rick didn't give up, damn him. 'Maybe ya can...jus' talk to them. Most of them will become part of our group...we need more good people to rebuild...'  
'I ain't a fuckin' counsellor. Ain't exactly 'Mr Sensitive' in case ya hadn't noticed. Maggie and Glen already givin' me filthy looks because I didn't say anythin' at the funeral. Herschel's disappointed in me too. Ain't there someone more qualified than me? Carol for instance? She's good at that talkin' shit.'  
'That ain't jus' it.' He kept trying to persuade me. More fool him. 'We want ya...to ...suss them out. See what type of people they are – whether they're going to contribute for us or cause us trouble.'  
I shrugged and held up my hands. 'OK...OK. I'll try but I ain't promisin' nothin'.'  
Rick smiled. 'Fine. Just try, is all I'm askin'. We need to know what kind of people they are before we let them loose.'  
'I'll try.' I gave in but I wasn't promising any miracles. I wasn't a people person – never had been.

I strode off – now that the thick black cloud that I'd been struggling under was lifting, I had someone to see.

Someone I cared deeply about but still had neglected. 

Someone I had sacrificed.

iii.

Carol

Daryl came to see me, looking around to see if Milton was there but he was out. Helping Rick with something or another.  
'Carol...' He mumbled. 'I got somethin' for ya – somethin' I meant to give ya. Ages ago.' He shrugged shyly.  
He laid down the white Cherokee rose gently on the table and suddenly I was having whirling dizzy, sensations of dejavu as I fetched a clean vase for it and filled it with water.  
When he'd given me the flower before when we still thought we would find my daughter. To give me hope. But I remember going out not long afterwards and deliberately tearing whole bushes of the things down when I knew she wasn't coming back.  
Now here he was again, giving me hope like nothing had happened.  
I turned round and put on my best welcoming smile. 'How ya doin'?'  
'Better.' That was all he said with a sad half-smile tugging down the corners of his mouth. But he did look better – was taking care of his personal hygiene again. His former gaunt and pinched appearance had rounded out somewhat.  
Did Merle talk to him?  
'I'm sorry about Beth. With you about to be getting' married and all....' I know it was wrong of me but I wanted to know what he thought about what was his tragic impending marriage.  
He looked up at me and scoffed. I was glad to see the sadness lift a little from him.  
'Yeah – 'bout that - people tell me that we were engaged and gettin' married but it's the first I've heard of it!'  
'You mean – ya didn't know?' My voice rose incredulously.   
'No.' He shrugged and despite ourselves we started giggling like old times. Even though we knew that it was wrong under the circumstances but the fact that we were doing something naughty only seemed to make us laugh harder.  
He turned serious all of a sudden. 'Ya know, I never said sorry – for not choosing ya.'  
'It doesn't matter now.' I brushed it off. I hadn't blamed him at the time and anyway, I was the one who survived, Beth didn't.   
'And....' He grasped the bull by the horns and I could tell that it was unbelievably difficult for him to talk about it '...for..for... what ya saw before I killed him.'  
We both knew what he was talking about – he got red and blushed deeply. Looked shamefacedly elsewhere.  
'Saw what? I've forgotten it already.' I lied. He looked at me with suspicion, he didn't fully believe me but sighed a breath of relief anyway.   
'And even if I did see a little somethin' , I won't tell anyone else. What we went through in that place was each our own private hell. Ain't nobody else's damn business.'  
He drew back in surprise when he heard me swear because I never used bad words like 'damn'. It was just that thinking about that bastard who had ruled Woodbury and what he had done to us – all of us- got my blood boiling.  
'Ya right.' He agreed. I noticed him shiver until he shrugged it off followed by my own when I remembered the days which seemed like years of torture I endured in Woodbury. Still, I didn't tell him how far the Governor had gone with me, I hoped he had believed me when I said nothing beyond the beatings and the cuttings that had happened. I could deal with it anyway.  
'How's Milton treatin' ya?' He deliberately changed the subject.  
'Like a queen.' And I meant it.  
'He better.' He replied with a protective snarl in his voice. ''Cos tell 'im if he don't, he'll have me to answer to.'  
'Thanks. But there's no need. He's a good man.'  
'Hmm...' Daryl didnt seem totally convinced. Maybe he thought Milton would change, show his true colours one day. Did he really think all men were abusers deep down?  
'How's Merle treatin' you?' I asked him to be funny.  
He snickered. 'Same ole Merle. But I'm glad I got him back safe and sound.'  
I couldn't help the thought – Would you trade your brother's life to get Beth back? I pushed this thought guiltily away, mostly because I thought I knew what his answer would be. After all, blood was blood and it seemed that only Merle could have brought him back from whatever dark place he'd been inhabiting recently.  
Of course, I didn't dare ask him.   
I wondered what magic Merle had useed to bring him back, what words he'd said to him, what he'd done.  
I nodded at his answer because Merle had started to grow on me now – I was seeing similarities between him and Daryl that I hadn't noticed before. Because after our ritual morning greetings 'Mornin' had developed into slightly longer exchanges. That's when Daryl's older brother had asked me the exact same thing: 'How's Milton treatin' ya?'. Threatened him too if he treated me badly, snarling in that same fierce Dixon way.  
It was a nice feeling to have the two of them at my back. Making me feel safe – like I had two protective brothers watching over me - feelings I had barely felt during my marriage. Well, maybe in the first six months before Ed showed his true colours.   
He seemed to be making an effort to change to fit in with the group, go hunting with his brother and bring back more food, build up the fortifications against the Walkers around the prison. I knew that there were some people who would never forgive him but maybe some of the new people would – whenever Rick decided to let them out of quarantine. It'd been a long time now.  
I pushed down the urge to throw my arms around him and give him a hug. I could tell that he wasn't ready for that and that if I tried, I could shatter this fragile thing between us that we'd just been coaxing into existence.   
Maybe later.   
What had happened at Woodbury was still affecting him and despite what I told him, I did remember everything. But none of it was his fault. So I lied because I sensed that for a Dixon, humiliation and being overpowered was far worse than any physical pain, even death.


	46. A Time to Heal

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die, 

A time to plant and a time to uproot, 

A time to kill and a time to heal, 

A time to tear down and a time to build, 

A time to weep and a time to laugh, 

A time to mourn and a time to dance, 

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 

A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.

Ecclesiastes 3 (1-5)

i.

Daryl

I made my way to the isolation cells, thinking that I really wasn't the right person for the job. Why didn't Rick just release them already? None of them looked like a threat – still thin and bedraggled despite Herschel's TLC. I was wondering why we were wasting our precious food and resources on a bunch of people who might not stay. Rick said if any of them had wanted to leave, none of them had apparently, we would blindfold them and drop them off somewhere far away. So, hopefully they wouldn't find their way back. Well, I knew that he'd got more careful about who we let it into our group. I was thinking, just because they'd been the Governor's enemies, didn't automatically make them our friends despite that old saying 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' or make them into good people either.  
There were 6 prisoners but I my eyes were drawn to the boy – still looking battered with fading, yellowing bruises. Looked about 14 or 15 and I had to fight the urge to get out of there.

The boy was me at his age. Looked tough but his eyes told a different story as they slid away from me. The last thing I wanted to ask him 'What did the bad man in Woodbury do to you?' Fuck.

Shit, Rick. Why did ya think I would be good at this shit?Knowing him and Herschel, this was probably all some scheme dreamed up to help me get over things – by talking to people who had also been prisoners of that psycho in Woodbury. Probably been tortured and violated in a variety of ways.

They were all in separate cells apart from the married couple – that made 5 cells. I could only guess what they'd endured as prisoners of the sick fuck if my own experience was anything to go by and I considered myself to have got off lucky.

How was I going to talk to them in private without the others hearing if I wanted to get the truth out of them?  
I decided to address them all first before I took them into the office to speak to them individually and the couple were whispering excitedly, like they recognised who I was. Their gaze on me felt heavy, weighing me down. The boy was just slumped there with a far away gaze in his eyes and I knew he had zoned out, wasn't listening. That didn't matter, I'd get to him later. Herschel had told me what the sick fuck had done to him. That he'd been hysterical when they'd brought him in.

I took out my crossbow, just to make sure. Pointed it around so they could see it. 'Now. Ain't no-one gonna get hurt unless they try some funny business.'  
They nodded except for the boy but I ignored him.  
'Now, name's Daryl. Maybe ya even heard of me – I'm second in command here. Everyone bein' treated OK? Gettin' fed, showers?  
Only the couple second on the right nodded. 'Ya folks have been more than decent to us, thanks.'  
Anyone got any wounds or medical problems not being seen to?'  
Again, the couple shook their heads.  
No-body else answered so I took that as a 'No' all round. Didn't matter – if they didn't speak up, it weren't my problem.  
I paused. 'Now, seems like ya wanna stay since none of ya have said ya wanna leave. We ain't keepin' anyone here 'gainst their will. We ain't like the Governor. Anyone wanna leave? All ya gotta do is say the word.' All of them shook their heads vigourously except for the kid.  
The middle-aged man spoke up. 'Name's Bob and this here is my wife Maria.' The others kept up their silence.  
'Well then, I'm here to check what kind of people ya are. Whether ya gonna contribute. See – we've had some bad experiences jus' lettin' anyone in here - let loose among my people.  
…

The guard nodded and opened the gate of the first cell where the young woman was.  
She had fading bruises around her thoat and on her arms and I felt a surge of rage rising in me but hid it. I'd got better at concealing my emotions and controlling myself these days. Even so, maybe something showed on my face because she backed off against the wall when she saw me. So I stopped where I was in the middle of cell but kept my crossbow trained on her.  
I heard Bob call out, 'Where ya takin' her? What ya gonna do with her?' I could hear the worry in his voice.  
'Nothin' to worry about. Not if she co-operates.' I eyeballed her, challenging her.  
I could tell she was hiding something behind her back, probably a makeshift weapon even though they had all been carefully searched. She was a fighter all right.  
'I ain't gonna hurt ya. Jus' wanna talk.' I told her quietly. Trying not to be intimidating but trying to dissuade her from any stupid shit. Her eyes were full of fear but she looked tough.  
I motioned with my weapon. 'Drop it.'  
Her eyes widened in apparent shock that I knew about it. I didn't for sure –had just been a feeling.  
Glaring at me, she dropped the blunt, steel cutlter knife to the floor and I suppressed a laugh. She was going to stab me with that? 'Come on.' I told her. Jus' gonna talk.'  
'Fuck you.' She swished past me. I couldn't help but check out her ass but quickly looked away.  
'Feisty.' I bit back and grinned.  
Fuck! She's probably been raped and God knows what else and I'm looking at her ass? So soon after Beth?  
I felt like a shit.

ii.

Keira

I looked at the man standing pointing the bow-like weapon at me. I didn't even know what it was called. He looked mean and rough – I knew it would be dangerous to cross him. He was lean but muscular and strong. His gravelly, broad red-neck accent seemed to confirm my suspicions but I knew I was just being prejudiced.  
Yet – there was something sexy about him and I couldn't believe that I was thinking about guys again. I closed my eyes and swayed a little as the memories assaulted me. Them on top of me, forcing themselves inside me, groping me everywhere. Calling me names, whispering filth in my ears.  
The pain. The terror.  
'Ya OK?' He grabbed my arm – his touch was surprisingly gentle but I still screamed and jerked back. 'Don't touch me!' He immediately let me go.  
I heard Bob yell behind me, 'Ya OK, Keira?.... Get off her!' He screamed protectively but Daryl ignored him.  
'Jesus! OK, I won't touch ya! Jus' looked like ya were phasin' out there.' He snarled at me instead and I felt a moment of fear. But that was until I noticed the kindness in his eyes that were all to human and full of understanding – I wondered why I hadn't noticed before.  
We strode along the corridor, one of their guards leading the way until he paused at a door.  
Daryl motioned with his strange looking weapon. 'Get in there.' He ordered me roughly but he avoided touching me.  
…

 

Daryl

I motioned the seat opposite me across the desk as I sat myself down.  
Shit I don't belong here. In an office, behind a desk. Dixons belonged in the woods, the fresh air, the mountains. What do I know? Why couldn't Rick choose someone else for this job?  
Like she's gonna talk to me. Probably scared of all men if they did what I knew they usually did to young, attractive female prisoners. To some men too, I knew. The sick fuck wasn't above raping men – twisted bastards like him would perversely enjoy it more than overpowering a woman. More of a fight.

The guard stayed inside, another one outside the door. I didn't even know their names – they were new. I wondered who had vetted them.

'Sit down.'  
She did but there was still fear lurking in her eyes despite her aura of toughness.  
'I meant it. We're not gonna hurt ya. I ain' t that kind of man, believe me. We ain't no suck fucks like in Woodbury. We're decent folk 'cos no-one's hurt ya since ya got here, have they?'  
She shook her head.  
'Jus' tryin' to get to know ya, is all. Ya wanna stay here?'  
She nodded eagerly.  
'If ya want to be part of us, gotta ask ya some questions.'  
'And ya gotta tell me the truth. I'll know if ya lyin', trained for this, ya know.' My voice hardened.  
'OK. She sighed. I reached over for a pen lying on the desk and she flinched, drew back.  
'Jesus!'  
'Sorry.' She mumbled.  
'Ain't gonna touch ya, ain't gonna do nothin' to ya, unless ya do somethin' dumb, right?'  
Looking more reassured now, she nodded.  
'Like attack me or lie to me or some shit like that. Got it?'  
'So, where do ya come from and why ya at Woodbury?'  
''Cos I thought it would be safe...instead, instead...they....' Her eyes were burning with tears and she was shaking and I hated having to ask her. Making her remember.  
I looked down at the desk, giving her some privacy and remembering the taunts: 'Tell me, did your Daddy fuck you too?'  
'He did, didn't he?  
'Bet ya can suck cock really well, can't ya? Daddy taught ya good, didn't he?'  
'Can't wait to try ya out.'  
I didn't press her though, I didn't want to know. But it was obvious to me – the flinching, the fear in her eyes when she looked at me. The boy was even in a worse state.  
'They hurt ya.' I finished her sentence for her. 'I'm sorry.' I mumbled. Embarrassed and not meeting her eyes.  
Trying to change the subject, 'Where were ya from before this?'  
'Small place near Atlanta. I was a nurse.' She sniffed. Me saying 'Sorry' seemed to have calmed her.  
'Got any family?'  
'I had some before in Georgia but I haven't heard anythin' since...'  
'Then they probably didn't make it.' I told her. Truth was hard but it needed to be said. Easy for me to say when I still had my brother.  
She sniffed again but I saw her muscles tense, her lips trembled as she was trying to get herself back under control.  
'I know. I don't hold out for any rosy dreams of reunion, believe me.'  
'How many did ya kill?'  
She looked at me then in confusion. 'Ya mean people or biters?'  
'We call them 'walkers' here. But yeah – how many biters?'  
She shrugged her shoulders. 'I don't know.'  
'Roughly? One...two...three?'  
'A dozen...two dozen...'  
'OK.' I finished writing notes down in my book.  
'What's ya weapon?'  
'Knife, fists whatever's handy.'  
'Right. Think we're finished – we're gonna let ya stay. Nursing skills are very handy here.'  
'Oh thank-you very much.' She said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice and I liked it!  
….

iii.  
Daryl

The next was the boy. He told me his real name was Tony but he'd given the sick fucks in Woodbury a fake name – his brother's name.  
He started crying for his younger brother Ryan, not for what the Governor did to him at first. While I sat there like an ass, not knowing what to do, feeling like a shit because I still had my brother. Worse, I always got uncomfortable when people started blabbing, I even thought Merle would be better at this shit than me because he always knew how to make me feel better. 

I let him cry it out, remembering Keira, I hesitantly reached to touch his shoulder but he jerked away. I knew that going through that shit can make you not want to be touched from personal experience.  
'Sorry.' I mumbled for the second time.  
'I'm such a fuckin' pussy, ya know? Lettin' him do that stuff to me...'  
I shook my head. This was too close to home. 'Ya ain't a pussy, son.' I tried to say the right thing while cursing Rick not for the first time for giving me this job. I didn't know shit about how to talk to people – especially ones who'd gone through this shit. Wouldn't Herschel or Maggie be more suited to this?  
He sniffed, dried his eyes. 'Ya know...he called me Daryl. That's your name, isn't it? Why he call me you? I...I told him my fake name – Ryan but he hit me and told me to stop lying.'  
I felt my damn pussy body tremble and tried to hide it without answering his question. 'Yeah...that's strange.' Trying to sound only mildly surprised.  
'Ya hit him back? Ya try to fight him?'  
'Yeah.'  
'Then ya ain't a pussy.'  
He smiled a weak smile and looked down at his lap.  
I took a deep breath and took the plunge. 'What else did he do to ya, son?' I asked him softly, hoping he would tell me to 'Fuck off' and refuse to answer. Like I would have done at his age.  
But he didn't. Seemed to want to talk. 'He....He..' He started shaking then and could have kicked myself for asking. 'He...called me you and whipped me with his belt....said he was gonna....gonna make more scars. But no-one whipped me before...I didn't understand.'  
'Sick fuck.' I snarled as I closed my eyes. I knew what the bastard had been up to – he couldn't get me so he'd got the next best thing to act out his twisted fantasy on. The kid looking just like me was no co-incidence and I didn't want to hear, just wished he'd stop but it was my job to ask. I wasn't about to back out then.  
'Then what, Tony?' Forced myself to ask him.  
'He...he pinned me down, got on top of me...Fuck,... it hurt so bad..But the doctors in Woodbury were kind to me...told him he'd hurt me so bad that I needed time to heal so I didn't have to go back to him....'  
I clenched my fists in rage as memories of my father came to me then and I shuddered. I don't like touching most people I don't know but I stretched my hand out to him. Slowly, to see if he let me, giving him plenty of time to back away. But he didn't. So I put it round his shoulders tentatively and when he let it stay there, I drew him to me. He didn't resist and I was surprised he let me this time.  
'He fuck ya?' I whispered, trying to keep my voice low and even and not give away the rage I was feeling. Easier that way for both of us.  
He nodded and started sobbing into my shoulder. I held him tighter even though I felt awkward with this comforting shit at first - it just wasn't me. 'It's OK, it's OK. He's fuckin' dead, I killed him. Ya safe now. Ya with good people – we're ya new family.'  
But what else could I say? I started stroking his hair to soothe him, like Merle had done to me in the past when shit got too much for me. After a while, I found my rhythm and I seemed to be doing OK because at least his trembling finally stopped.  
I was surprised that he let me, that he trusted a fuck-up like me who had let his own girlfriend die for him.  
'Jus' gotta try and move on.' I told him, starting to like this, feeling that I was good at it.  
When I sent him back to his cell, he seemed calmer and a bit more aware of his surroundings. I told him he could come and go hunting with me and Merle, we'd teach him how to track the animals, if he liked.  
He'd nodded with a sigh of relief. 'I wanna get out of this cell...sick of being cooped up. Wanna get some fresh air.'  
My hand surprised me by ruffling his hair. He looked up at me and grinned, looking for all the world like any 14 year old boy who were used to nothing other than computer games and baseball. Seeing that smile gave me a warm feeling inside that I hadn't felt since Beth. I did that? I got this sad kid to smile?

…  
I vetted the other people – another young woman and man, students from up at Atlanta. Couldn't believe that Rick was giving me sole responsibility in deciding whether to let these people join us or not. Luckily, they'd only been prisoners of the Governor for a few hours and nothing much had happened to them. Like the older couple – probably would have been used in the Saturday night shows. They'd all been taken in by the signs that had promised food and shelter. The guy was called Eric and the girl, Sandra. Both had been sophomore classmates – studying psychology.  
'Should come useful.' Merle sniggered later when I told him about the new group members who would join us the next day back in his cell.  
Didn't tell him about what Keira told me – the group suspected what had happened to her but they didn't know for sure and I didn't want to betray her confidence. I did tell him that she was really feisty and hot and he laughed at that. Slapped my shoulder. 'Way to go, little brother. Already getting over ya little fiancee.'' I snarled at the way he dragged that last word out mockingly, reminding me that the joke was on me because I hadn't known that we were actually engaged. Beth had just gone around and told people, apparently and told them to keep it a secret. Even from me. I should have noticed the signs -that she was unstable and I had to hold back from punching that infuriating smirk right off his face. 'Any fresh pussy for me in there?'  
'No! Not for ya worthless ass, anyway.'  
I also told him about Tony and that the sick pervert had called him by my name and the other things he'd done to him. The same things Dad did to me – this fact was not lost on Merle as he clenched his fists. 'Fuck, little brother, shame ya killed him. I wish I could have drawn it out nice and long and painful for that piece of child-rapin' shit. Kids! Didn't even think he would have sunk so low. Bastard really must have been really obsessed with ya, hey? Fuckin' sick and damn right creepy. I mean why would anyone become obsessed with you?'  
I ignored the jibe – I knew he was mocking me to try and make light of the situation. 'Yeah, like ya didn't know what was goin' on? Ya were his fuckin' head of security!'  
'He weren't doin' that shit with kids when I was there! Ya know what happened to those pieces of child-molesting shit in the slammer where I was? If I'd known...'  
'Yeah, well ya didn't. Jus' like ya never knew about Dad and me.'  
'That's because I wasn't there!' He raised his voice and got in my face.  
'Yeah, that's right, ya weren't!'  
We glared at each other, the air was crackling between us and I sensed us exchanging blows wasn't far off.  
I was the first to look away, not in the mood for a fight.  
'Anyway, like I told Tony, 'Put it in the past and move on'.  
Merle backed off as well and dropped his glare.  
'That's a good idea.'  
'So, when they get out tomorrow ...I said he could come tracking with us.'  
'OK.' Merle put up less of a fight than I expected. The last thing I thought he would have wanted was to have a kid trailing along, making noise and scaring away the food.  
'Ya not gonna be mean to him or anythin', right?'  
Merle shrugged. 'Sure. What do ya take me for? Jus' keep him quiet while we're tracking, right?'  
'Night.' I called out to him before going back to my cell. It's emptiness grated on me, reminding me of what I had lost. But maybe Beth had really been one sandwich short of a picnic.

That didn't mean I didn't feel guilty and alone, though. 

 

'


End file.
